Auburn Sky
by AnimeWriter45
Summary: Sherlock can store anything he finds useful to him in his mind palace working like a hard drive. Helena can memorize a map of a city and make the fastest routes possible. The two are found as complete bizarre people; freaks. One a detective the other a crook. Prides too strong that they need one another. [SherlockxOC] IN PROGRESS
1. Chapter 1

Some would say the best views of London can be found in the most obvious locations. The London Eye, Big Ben, some say Tower Bridge. One person would argue to the death that those are wrong. A person known as Hawkeye says the top of a tower dubbed The Shard is the only place to see all of London. Most attempted to see from there, only scaling the tallest tower of the Europe Union can earn one the stunning view.

Only a scattered few have succeeded, but only done it once and never again. The result of failure was not death, of course. No one has gone far enough to earn death, not before getting called on to be reported to authorities. This hasn't stopped Hawkeye, nothing can stop her. She saw the world differently than normal people, she found it as her way of thriving her very eventful life. Normal people just see London as a crowded, bustling city and nothing more. Hawk though, she saw things that made her both glare and grin down at the city. Two different worlds in people; the rich selfish ones and others with poor struggling ones.

That fact wasn't what made Hawkeye special, her name did have a purpose. When scaling buildings and eyes of the sky she saw maps, hiding locations, escape routes, and safe places to sleep. She had London in the palm of her hand. All it took was took was one glance and Hawkeye can see her flawless 'strolls' through the city.

Cold, it's always cold in London, England itself is a cold damp country. A slight shiver ran down her spine as a passing gust of chilly morning air rolled by. She took in a deep breath of fresh air closing her eyes, and letting her arms stretch out. It was like floating, if only it could last forever. A smile stretched out, yes, this was heaven to Hawkeye.

"Is someone up there?"

"I see a figure!"

"Don't be stupid! Who would be insane enough to even be up there?"

"Looks like a statue."

"Wait! Let me take a photo!"

These were constant comments made when bystanders saw someone on a roof. Hawkeye disappeared before any more attention could be brought to her. Though this time was different and attention Hawkeye hated. Once that was brought, it was sure enough to bring trouble to her peaceful moment. The distant sound of sirens made her open those chocolate brown eyes to glance down. Yup, there were the infamous white and blue flashing lights and display of a crowd. The hood over Hawkeye's brown/red hair helped some not know who she was and hide her face in case cameras tried to zoom in on her. Wearing all black of cargos, boots, and a hooded jacket helped her hide almost all of her. Police constantly mistook her of a male; mostly thanks to her appearance and style of fighting. They've never been close enough to actually see her face.

The smile faded but her arms stayed out. This wasn't the first time Hawkeye was reported of her 'spectacular' stunts. If not this, than the reports were made against her crimes on the streets.

"Don't tell me it's him."Groaned the voice of the stressed Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade exiting the car that had just pulled up. His short gray hair was as messed up as it could be, just woken up to this call. Eyes blinked from getting the tired out of it as he adjusted his tan coat against the cold.

Police worked fast to keep people at bay, as some scrambled to find the security of the building for questions. So far they claimed to not see her, which was aggravating to hear.

"What did you expect?" Sergeant Sally Donovan replied who was just as annoyed as he was. "This time he's got quite the display." He raised a brow at her words, she nodded her head up. He followed her and just groaned rubbing his eyes, he just loved attention didn't he?

"So what's the plan? Send up a team or have an ambulance near by?" She asked getting her walkie ready. They never needed to call one, thank God. But Sally always wanted one by in case an accident were to occur. She would be more ready to call a coroner than ambulance knowing Hawkeye's heights.

"In all honesty, I rather just leave him up there." He mumbled mostly to himself. Greg looked back up, eyes shooting wide at the sight. "What the hell is-"

Before Lestrade could even think of an action to take, Hawkeye starting scaling herself down. People were in awe of this, the fact movements almost like a spider or monkey. No one's ever seen someone do this, or even think it was possible! Was this a creature or human? Some questioned, mostly the authorities.

"Maybe we can catch him this time." Greg gave with little to no hope in it.

Sally shrugged crossing her arms. "We've chased him for months, maybe he's finally given up."

Hawkeye was about quarter of the way down, then stopped and slipped her thin frame through the metal works and onto the floor much to the crowd's shock. That would've taken some strong effort against gravity and her own weight. All the police cared to notice was she was inside with no way out!

"Go! Go in now!" Barked off Lestrade as officers poured inside. They both followed after yelling, "We'll block him off. He can't get out any other way!"

While some were at the elevator Donovan, Lestrade, and other officers towered the emergency stairwell. They kept climbing and climbing, but no sign of the trouble maker. Echoes of panting and stomping would've given Hawkeye the warning of police chasing after her. It wasn't until a half hour later they were growing tired, and stopped half way up the building. Lestrade leaned on the railing looking down in case they missed any floors or see any movement. Donovan looked up for anything as well.

"This is getting us nowhere! Where is he hiding!?" Lestrade yelled running a sweaty hand through his short hair. They had checked all the floors they passed, nothing at all.

The Sargent clicked her walkie earning a high beep, and spoke into it. "Report, anything?"

Static came through along with voices of the officers standing by elevators. "Nothing here, Sargent. No movements out front either." Another static and high pitch beep rang through. "We're at the highest floor, nothing."

Hawkeye had to be somewhere. The group was going to continue moving up, when static returned to the walkie. They all froze as Donovan moved her brown curls from her caramel face to bring the walkie closer to listen. "Yea, what is it?"

Over the static in the background sounded like a woman fretting over something. "We have a report of a stolen jewelry article. The woman here claims her wedding ring was snatched off her hand."

"It was! Even my husband can never get it off!" She cried near by, she had a different accent. Hard to place, though it sounded Spanish

The two made eye contact, with a knowing look.

Lestrade gave an aggravated groan,slamming his hands on the railing. He ignored the pain, his frustration was stronger. "How the hell does he do it!?"

"Anyone make any hand contact with your hand, ma'am?" The officer asked.

The woman sniffled and shook her head, but paused. "Oh, there was this one person who fell in the crowd, I helped them up. I didn't even feel it being taken off!" The daughter comforted her crying mother, assuring her father would understand.

Down the street, wearing an old beat up brown cap with a small union jack sewn on the front covered her features from prying eyes with a low head. A smirk was cemented to her face as she held the expensive diamond jewelry in her pocket clutched in her gloved hand. Hawkeye looked back sneering as she watched the woman have a mini heart attack. It was nothing but an object of love, what purpose could that be to life? Hawkeye scoffed, love was an excuse to toy with people.

Just as she was crossing the street a bus was leaving a stop. Mentally mapping the buses route, Hawkeye tossed her hood over her head, letting the bus pass. She took a short run behind it, grabbed the bottom rim of the back window and latched her boots onto the small bumper which was no trouble for her. People gave odd looks, but assume she was a trouble making teen. The thought on this morning's even being a bust was no long plaguing Hawkeye's mind; it was worth it.

* * *

><p>The telly was a marvelous invention to people. Whole purpose to entertain people with mindless dribble. The dribble can be good, most of the time it can be counted as crap television. But now, on the news, it was covering all the channels on breaking news.<p>

At the flat of 221 Baker Street, the same channel was on the 32 inch Samsung television that was perched on a stand behind a chair left of the fireplace in the living room. It was rarely used, sometimes its purpose was questioned. When used it was only the news channel airing on there. But it was kept there for when the news was needed. Today, the news was being ignored by Sherlock Holmes.

In the kitchen, boxes being opened can be heard along with clinking of glasses tapping and hitting one another. The telly wasn't even given attention while the news station carried on. Piles of papers, unpacked boxes and other unorganized assortments scattered the flat along with newly places furniture. It didn't seem to bother the tenant, as he was responsible of the mess. There was no one to complain about it (other than the landlady).

Carefully the dark haired tall man started putting his chemistry set together in deep silence and concentration as to not break anything. Near black brown curls hung off his head in a messy manner. Hands ruffled through the curls making them more loose and bouncy as he finished screwing the tubes together. Razor sharp ice blue eyes scanned over to make sure it was perfectly secure. Deeming it worthy of use he decided to give it a test run, he strode through the fridge in search of something. Where did he put that bag of ears?

"Now on the scene, police refuse to tell us what exactly was on top of The Shard Tower early this morning. Witness reported it looked to be a statue, some say it was a person." The blond male reporter informed with a crowd of people behind police tape.

A roll of the eyes and a scoff, he got annoyed by the news now. Sherlock couldn't find his ears, deciding to blame the fact they were left at St. Bart's. With long strides, he moved to the living room in search of the remote to turn the telly off. Shoving papers around as the news man continued his report. The thought of organizing popped to his mind for a brief moment.

"I swear, it wasn't a statue! I got video of the person climbing down the bloody tower!" Exclaimed one teenage boy taking his phone out and holding it to the camera. "It was like a monkey or something."

"Finally!" Exclaimed the detective and pointed the remote at the t.v. ready to put it to sleep. Thought his thumb just hovered over the red button, his focus on the video recording on the mobile phone. A black figure scaling down the corner metal structure of Shard Tower. Sherlock's arm slowly lowered as he took slow careful steps toward the screen and crouched down in front of it.

The black figured continued scaling down with ease, it stopped though and slipped through the metal bars getting inside. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, hands pressed together with the remote sandwiched between gently and brought up just below his nose and against his lips.

"What happened after the figure got inside the building?" He asked the teen who pulled his mobile from the camera.

"The police just instantly went crazy!" He exclaimed waving his arms as the reporter stepped back. "They all yelled and just ran in there like-like someone had a gun or something!"

"Do you think this mysterious figure is a threat or in even a terrorist?"

Sherlock resisted to groan at the stupidity he was witnessing.

"I-I-I wouldn't say that.." The teen stuttered looking nervous and excited at the same time. Obviously not wanting to cause a panic or rumors spread of such a thing. "It would be pretty killer to see who it was though!"

The teen soon left after feeling a bit under pressure on the questions the reporter was giving. Sherlock continued to watching, waiting if anything else was given. He dug a hand into his pocket fishing something out.

"Oh, there's the Inspector of police. He just emerged from the building." The camera moved over showing a stressed out of breath Lestrade. "Inspector Lestrade! What of the person? Are they in custody? Was it a threat in any way?"

Lestrade frowned at the camera then at the man. "No, no, just some.." He took a deep breath, still tired from going up and down the stairwell. "Just some crazy dare devil is all."

"Wrong." Muttered Sherlock clicking send on his phone.

"If that is true, why were the police so keen on-"

The sound of a chime went off. Lestrade checked his phone, frown got deeper. He looked back down refusing to give more attention to it. "I-If you wish to ask more, please refrain from doing so." He glanced around. "The whole situation is under control. No one is in any danger, it's completely safe. We just wanted to keep crowd control and-"

Sherlock muted the telly at that time to save himself the trouble of Lestrade's rant. He stayed in that position on the floor, going into silent thoughts; Mind Palace. Analyzing the video, words of witness, and Lestrade's statement within a few seconds, Sherlock determined the person's purpose of being on top of Shard Tower.

Soon Sherlock turned the television off leaving the remote on the stand to keep track of it. "Now, where was I?" The detective stood fixing his bleach white shirt and unrolling his sleeves. His black trousers the shirt was tucked into hugged his thin lean frame with the help of a matching black belt. He slipped on his black blazer buttoning it and threw on his long wool dark coat.

"Oh yes," He looped the blue scarf around his neck a smirk on his lips. "My ears." Sherlock rushed down and out of his flat. Shoes clacked down the pavement, calling a cab for a ride to St. Barts.

* * *

><p>The night has fallen but the mornings event was still lingering. Hawkeye managed to stay out of sight easily from prying eyes of scattered officers. She was sure D.I. Lestrade told all officers to keep an eye out and she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. After her little escape, Hawk's been hearing people go on about it on their phones and tablets. It made her growl in annoyance, she never wanted this attention. She just wanted her perfect peaceful view of London; stupid bystanders.<p>

Hawkeye was currently jumping roof to roof of flat buildings heading to her next location. It was a big far, but worth it for her goal. She reached the end of the roof of flats, how just a huge gap between her spot and a gas station. "Damn.." Sure she can parkour all through London but even she had limits.

Dark brown eyes scanned around instantly finding a fire escape. Her boots pounded the gavel and she perched onto the edge, starting her climb case by case. Going down the stairs themselves would be too tedious and time consuming for her. It only took her half a minute at most dropping herself to the ground with ease. Thoughts drifted to her success, as she walked in the darkness, of snatching the ring off that woman. Hawkeye gave the ring another look that was now perched on her left ring finger. She kept it there so it wouldn't fly out of her pockets when jumping.

"I need to get this fixed.." Hawkeye reminded herself as she toyed with the small felt bag that was tied to her belt loop. She kept her stolen goods which was mostly small trinkets she could use. Hawk never went for big stuff like laptops or phones; too risky.

Lights shined on her, Hawkeye glanced up wincing used to the dark and grinned seeing the bright half dead neon lights. 'Ferry's Pawn Shop' was a cheap near hidden and forgotten pawn shop near the thames. It was located between two big buildings so it was never given a second glance. The fact another bigger known pawn shop down the street didn't give much hope either. But Hawkeye only went to this one for her traded goods.

The bell rung as the glass door opened signaling a new customer. It smelled of smoke, and Hawk swears to smell weed from the back.

"Ferry!" She barked out taking her hood off "Your favorite customer is here!" Hawk knew she was safe here. Her reddish brown hair fell around her neck in thick layers. A hand combed through, so greasy and unkept.

From the back an arm moved the clacking wooden beads substituting a door to the back as the owner emerged. He has a clean shaved head that was always hidden under a bandana. Today's was red with orange skulls printed over it. Sunglasses perched onto his nose concealing his eye, his blond soul patch was stroked with pride as if it was a trophy. Ferry wore a shirt with words that read 'don't be cocky' with a rooster on the back. Blue navy jeans hung off his hips staying in place thanks to the belt, the clap of his flip-flops smacked the tile floor.

Ferry beamed at the sight of the woman and engulfed her into a tight hug. The man was bone thin so it couldn't beat Hawk's tense fit body hidden under the clothing.

"You've been smoking again." She pointed out poking his rib to let her go.

The bald man waved her hand away pulling back. "It keeps the day fun." He excused in his Brooklyn accent, clearly from America. He sautered over to the glass case counter where all the jewelry was on display. He leaned his sharp elbows on the glass, eyes on her.

"What can I do ya for?" Ferry knew why Hawk came by; pawn her jewelry. "What sad prick leave ya this time?"

"Nothing too gaudy, I assure." Hawk teased as she showed her finger with the ring.

Ferry held up his loupe that hung around his neck and gently took her hand to hold it steady getting a good look at it. He was silent as Hawk looked around casually, the shop contained different sections of antiques, jewelry, small bits of furniture, computers and phones and other such. Despite Ferry seemed like a lazy sod, he was highly organized and kept everything perfectly displayed. He took pride of it in his shop and was eager to have something new to sell. It impressed Hawk.

"Alright," Ferry took in some air tilting her hand, she looked back to listen to his results. "Real diamond." She grinned with a nod. "Round cut stone class with enhanced, the weight is about..1/10 at best. Sett'n is to be a pavé sterl'n silver and by a guess, I'd have to say he was Irish?" The ring was in the shape of a four leaf clover, Hawk guessed the woman's husband was indeed Irish.

"Luck of the Irish, he always said." She shrugged giving a lopsided grin, though it was careless.

"Not much luck for ya there, huh?" He asked letting her hand go as she took the ring off and placed it on the class with a light 'clink' to it.

"How much for it, Fer?"

The man tilted his head back and forth to decide and coughed into his elbow. "I'd say," He cleared his throat. "We're looking at about eighty-nine dollars, but in pounds.." He took his mobile out to convert the money, Ferry was still trying to get used to british pounds compared to american dollars. "Fifty-five at most. And that's just for ya, I don't make these deals with anyone."

Hawk grinned, "I'll take it, and no receipt remember."

"Of course!" He assured taking the ring and returning to the back.

Hawk looked down at the case display seeing if anything she had brought in was bought off. Some necklaces were still there, rings, but a pair of earrings she snatched off a while ago were gone. "How much did you sell the earrings for?" She called looking over.

He returned and looked up from counting the bills. "A good amount." Was all he answered. "Here you are, hope it heals that heart of yours too."

She rolled her eyes taking the money and hid them away into her bra under her jacket. "You know me, I never have a broken heart."

Ferry leaned against the display arms crossed. "How is it ya get into these relationships and not have a brok'n heart?" He grinned. "You're not a gold digger, are ya?"

Hawk gasped pressing a hand to her heart. "You dare accuse me of such a thing?" She mocked and covered her mouth holding up the act causing Ferry to laugh. "I could be worst things, my good sir, but a gold digger I am not!"

"Alright, alright." He waved giggling. "Was it an engagement ring?"

"No, just some two week anniversary bullshit." She waved off. "He was pretty obsessed so I broke this one off."

"Must be if he payed this hefty price over a two week relationship."

Hawk looked at the time on the clock wall and reached for her hood. "I better get going. I'll stop by for a visit tomorrow?"

"No need," Ferry waved off, "Tomorrow taking the day off."

Her eyes glanced to the back seeing movement. Hawk nodded biting her lip to fight back a knowing grin. "Understood. Well, have a good night and relaxing day off." Hawk gave tossing her hood over her head.

"Be safe, Helena!" He called out as she left his shop walking back the street she came from.

Deeming it fine to walk the streets, Hawkeye -or also known as Helena- let her hood drop, hands stuffed her hands in her pockets striding down the street passing shops and restaurants. She passed by people not giving a second glance to her. Stomach growled, she was hungry. A hand placed over it in deep thought, Helena had the money to get herself well earned meal, but she couldn't do that. The money was towards another more important matter than her selfish needs. She shook her head ridding the thoughts of food which was hard to do with her location.

Not fully paying attention, her shoulder rammed into someone's side. Her eyes shot up, "Sorry." She gave softly, moving over to get a look at the person. The coat and high collar was no help, but she saw pale skin, dark hair, and shocking electric eyes.

He nodded to her giving a 'it's alright,' and continued his long strides down the pavement. Helena gave one last glance before looking down to her hand, holding the contents of items she got from that man.

"Too easy." She snickered shoving them in her jacket pocket to look them over later. Pick pocketing coats were nothing to her, and those were deep pockets. Though she felt a bag of something wet inside and it felt cold.

Alright, he got his ears, had a small good meal, back at his flat he was content to work with his chemistry set like a child. Standing in front of the door he searched for his keys, a frown came when he found none in his coat pockets. Sherlock knocked on the door, hoping Mrs. Hudson was there or heard it. Luck would have it, she did as her face appeared behind the door when it opened.

"Sherlock dear, don't tell me you lost those keys already?" She asked moving aside for him to enter. She shut and locked the door watching him ascend up the stairs.

"Apparently so," He continued his way up.

"Do check if you misplaced them!" She called up to him and returned to her flat of 221a.

Sherlock didn't really listen as he entered his flat taking off his coat and scarf hanging them by the door. He got the needed test tubes, beakers and his blow torch set up, returning to get the bag of ears from his coat pocket examining them. Perfect, they weren't damaged in the travel. Sherlock strode to the kitchen beginning his experiment on the ears.

Three in the morning and he was still silently working on this. Ears spread out now clean of blood, most were torched and others were sutured. Currently Sherlock was looking into his microscope examining at the blood cells in the clit ear, the small dish beside him was skin cells of the burnt ears he had. He was perfectly content, then smirked. "There it is.." He muttered and reached into his shirt pocket.. Strange, not there.

Sherlock stood and walked over to his coat searching his pockets, at that moment he frowned. Both pockets were clean empty when they shouldn't be. He kept important things in there; gloves, magnifier, notebook, toolkit, and even his mobile phone. Just to make sure Sherlock checked his trouser pockets; nothing. Blue sharp eyes scanned the kitchen, living room, boxes, bedroom, bathroom. Nothing!

"Mrs. Hudson!" He bellowed out barreling down the stairs in a rush. Said landlady reemerged seeing Sherlock lean over the railing to see her. "No one has been in the flat, yes?"

"No one at all, dear." She assured. "I've been here all day and the door was locked. I would've heard someone come in if so."

Sherlock knew Mrs. Hudson was old, but not enough to lose her hearing. Not when living that close to the entrance of the building. He did see everything was in the exact same place as he left, so no one indeed entered his flat.

"Is something wrong?" She asked with concern on her face.

"Might be.." Sherlock pounded up the stairs leaving a confused Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the stairs who slowly followed up.

The detective was not one to misplace things, the keys were a slip. Sure, he forgot things at St. Barts but he always remembered to fetch them. His keys, kit, and other essentials he always kept in his coat pockets. He slid the coat on checking the pockets again, still empty. He frowned checking any other pockets on his person, he then caught a whiff of something. Sniffing he brought his left hand up, sniffing his fingers; oil. Grease to be exact, the kind found on metals and pipes. Sherlock sniffed the inside of his pocket, it smelled of it. Why did it smell of that? He had no contact of it at all.

Mrs. Hudson came up just to see Sherlock thinking in the middle of his living room, eyes closed; Mind Palace. Retracing his steps from Bart's to the flat. He had gone to get the ears, after Molly asked about them, he answered briefly and left. Continuing his walk he picked up dinner at a chip shop he knew so not there. Walk was silent after that, until he rammed into someone, returned finding his items gone. His memory froze, going back to the person. Attire; black with brown hat, thin. Clothing is tattered and worn barely washed. Gender; male. Age; late 20s at best, 27. Facial; hidden but eyes were dark brown and hair was a reddish brown ringing around her shoulders and neck. Obviously not washed or cut in so long, overgrown. The person was homeless, this was enough to go on. He replayed the scene of him ramming into him to figure out how he did it.

"You sure you didn't misplace them? Its such a mess one could always lose things-"

"Pickpocket." He suddenly answered grabbing his scarf.

She turned to him, "Pardon?"

He looked to her as he looped his scarf around his neck. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up or touch anything in the kitchen." Sherlock rushed out, almost in anger.

Mrs. Hudson was lost and concerned for when she heard the term, 'pickpocket'. She mumbled about how horrible to have pickpockets on the street and looked into the kitchen. The second she spotted the ears she rushed out and back to her flat horrified to find the ears he so hard worked to get.

"What is this even!?" Helena barked to herself looking at the new stuff she had nicked off the man a few hours ago. She found herself safely perched on a chinese shop not too far where she gained this new stuff. Some slim slidable magnifier, a pair of leather gloves sadly too big for her hands, some keys to a flat not a vehicle, notebook full of chicken scratch, a toolkit of weird instruments, and one object she glared at; a phone. She had no intention of taking the phone but she scooped what her hands had caught.

Currently she was looking through this kit seeing the weird objects it held. Some she knew of forceps, blades, caliper- Was this man she pickpocketed a criminal himself? The kitchen scratch Helena looked over was something of another language not because of what was writing, but the hand writing. Small and sort of understandable, but written too fast for her. Helena did see some science words such as formulas and some pages had big words almost like answers to a question the man had.

"Maybe a scientist." She figured and looked at the magnifier playing with it. "What money do I make of this stuff? I never had this before.." Usually it would be money, small trinkets. This was beyond trinkets. Helena put the notebook, toolkit, and gloves in separate pockets then glared back at the phone. Maybe she should leave it be? If she took it, she didn't have to answer it. She'd have her own phone, use the minutes as much as she wanted. But then again; risks. Someone could know the number and track it. That thought alone made her stand and inch from it as if it was deadly.

The device suddenly rang off echoing into the night causing Helena to jump away from it like a cat to a blender. Someone calling? ..No, it went off once, so it was a text message. She lowered to crouch in front of it and pressed a button as the screen lit up. '1 new message' it read. Helena pressed the green button and it opened with the message, she leaned in to read it. "Whoever owns this, return it." It read.

That alone made her heart skip, the person knew they took the phone! She had to abandon it now- no, get rid of it! If they found it on the roof, police reports and they'd know it was her and be on her case even know, knowing she'd be on roof tops. Helena picked up the phone and ran to the ladder leading up. She slid down with speed and ease landing to the cemented ground of the alleyway. With a quick 2 second map out, she decided to toss the phone into the Thames.

"I would return that if I were you." Came a deep velvet voice.

Helena froze and turned, glad her hood was over her head. Never can trust who was lurking. She didn't speak but kept her fists up in case it to be a mugger.

"I have no intention of this, I assure." The clacking of shoes of echoed, Helena stepped back into the street light, not a soul on the said street as shops were closed and people would be sleeping. It was a quiet part of London that Helena found herself at night the most. But never was she caught like this, for the person was the exact person she had pickpocketed from that early evening.

Dark curly hair, bright piercing eyes, pale pasty skin, and that damned long coat that surrounded his tall slim figure, collar of said coat was now resting low. She took in his appearance, never seen or encountered this man. She didn't know him so he wasn't part of the police, but then again could be under cover. And here she was being confronted by a man possibly working under that damned Lestrade. Helena mentally cussed at herself for not being cautious of her recent act.

The man sighed with his hands clasped behind his back, he looked a bit between crossed at her but also bored. Bored? Was she reading his expression correctly? No, no, that was what a bored look was. Roll of the eyes counted for annoyance, but he indeed looked bored.

"All I ask is for my items back with no intention of a scuffle, if you please." He told, holding a ungloved hand out expecting the items back. "..This isn't an offer." He stated lowly.

Helena smirked, she made a bolt run down the road. He had long legs, could he keep up? She heard the clack of his steps and looked behind her seeing him not to far behind. Ahh, a runner! Helena now had a challenge. Her mind scanned found the perfect route, ignoring the coming car she ran right across the street causing the driver to pound the breaks.

Sherlock kept up, just about dodging the car from hitting him. He expected this not to be easy, so he was prepared for anything this homeless croke had to throw at him. He estimated soon if they continued this way as he kept up the street that his long legs would get him to catch up to the short man. Though unexpected as Sherlock as just within reach, the man took a sharp turn into a narrow street, Sherlock jumped back scuttling through. Thankful for his thin frame to fit as he saw the figure pop out the other end, he sped up. Once out, looking around he heard metal clanging. Blue eyes shot up, widening at the sight before him.

Helena kept her sneer as she climbed up the fence with ease and her narrow speed and perched herself on top looking down. He took a breath and threw himself onto the fence shaking it as he climbed, of course not as fast or smooth as she did. She shook her head and stood on the pipe of it and balanced herself to trapeze across causing the man to pause.

Was this who he thought it was? The figure on the telly? Sherlock Holmes was robbed by the show off on top of Shard Tower!? Just the fact he was robbed baffled him enough. He watched as the figure got onto the roof and hopped on top and turned back. Sherlock just got to the top and grasped onto the metal with dear life watching the figure. With a swift slap of his hand on his bicep he threw up a fist that gripped the phone giving him a good old known signal that just made Sherlock's blood boil. He found this amusing!

A snicker erupted her as she turned and climbed on top the steep roof. Helena took her balance gently and climbed on the other end of the roof sliding down the the lower flat roof next to it. "That was simple.." She told herself as she strode across to find an exit.

Sherlock currently struggled to get across to that roof. He swung from his tight grip on the metal pole for once thankful he didn't have gloves. Then again if he had his gloves and other items he wouldn't be chasing this thief, now would he? It took some time, but he got himself within reached and hoisted onto the roof. Not giving time to catch his breath he scampered over the side, glaring the figure who strode like this was a walk in the park.

Oh, he was a determined man, man on a mission some say. That just made her heart beat faster, no one kept this far to get to her. But Helena knew he would never catch her; no one did. If Lestrade and his police force couldn't catch her, what made him think he could?

"One last… warning." Sherlock panted sliding off the angled roof and onto the flat one. He was high composed other than the rare effort he gave to getting to her and his anger on getting his stuff back. "If not the phone.. At least everything else."

Helena watched him, he didn't move or make anything of a threat. He was really desperate to get his stuff back unlike anyone else she robbed. They can always buy it back and replace things. This man, he didn't think that. Sentiment? ..No, if this was sentiment he'd be begging or force the items from her with high emotions. Only emotions she saw was annoyance and slight anger. Helena found no value to these items. She slowly emptied her pockets, tossing the gloves, kit, and notebook onto the gravel ground in front of her.

Sherlock made no move to get the items, seeing the phone still in her grip. "You're him right?" The figure's face was obscure but he was sure he had a questioning look at him. "Shard Tower."

Ohh, so he saw it? Helena looked at her hand with the phone in it, watching him in the corner of her eyes she went through the phone for more information. She didn't see him in the crowd so the news she guessed he saw this from. No google history on his phone on this, so he didn't research went into contacts, not many but one name caught her eye. 'Lestrade.' The site of the name made her chuck the phone with the other positions as if it burned her. She ran over to the edge of the building, she then saw a trash truck with bags of trash in the back bin beneath them.

Sherlock jogged over inspecting the damage to his items. His cellphone seemed fine as well as his kit and notebook. "Tell Lestrade.." He looked up seeing the figure turned to him as the sun was now noticed in the horizon, the man removed his hood as the hair fell and removed the hat. It was then, Sherlock realized his mistake in his deduction; female.

Hawkeye was doing something more risky than ever, but this man. Something about this man proved he was different than other people. A strong gust of morning wind just as the morning beforehand blew right by letting her hair fly in the wind. "The name's Hawkeye." She stated stepping up onto the ledge. "I'm one of the good guys."

Hawkeye extended her hand holding her hat out and stepped back letting gravity take her. Rushing to his feet, Sherlock leaned gingerly over the edge, nothing was there. His brows knotted searching if this 'Hawkeye' was hanging off of something or was running off down the street. But he saw no sight of her. With a tired sigh, he turned and collected his stuff and continued onto the roofs until he found a fire escape to climb down from. No way was he struggling down that chain link fence again.

The truck honked loudly as it entered the main street, drivers unbeknownst of their little carry on in the back. Watching the sky turn from dark blue to a blue gray was entertaining enough to the grinning girl. Despite feeling sharp things, she fell on some good garbage, thankfully no one threw glass away in trash and recycled it. She'd remember the name she saw in the information of that phone; Sherlock. "..Well isn't that a unique name for a unique man." She muttered leaning back to enjoy the ride until her stop would arrive.

Days had went by since the sighting of Hawkeye on Shard Tower and Sherlock's meeting with said person. He had gotten his ear evidence to a case he was on to Lestrade as well as the message Hawkeye had. Lestrade questioned on it, Sherlock gave a brief description of being robbed of the little thief before Donovan has a bit of a laugh at the thought of Sherlock Holmes being outsmarted by a street pick pocketer. Lestrade knowing the name this person is called, Hawkeye, told all officers to keep an eye out and ask around.

Though Sherlock shared all this information, he withheld the fact Hawkeye was not a male as the other had assumed so. Lestrade never asked so he never told.

After a week, Hawkeye had been quiet in the movement of crimes and stunts. She's chills above roof tops now and then. She's seen Sherlock mostly by that Bart's hospital. She's never been on the rooftop, she made a mental note to scale it sometime. The view didn't match Shard Tower but Helena was sure it was still a beautiful sight.

Ever since that encounter she's felt more off her game. Helena shoved off the thought that it was just a shaken feeling from her meeting with Sherlock. Standing above an apartment building, she looked down at her hand where she cut herself not too long ago. Didn't seem serious so she ignored it. Helena though has felt pain in her neck and wiped some sweat from her forehead. It was cold and she wasn't straining herself so why the sweat? Shaking her head, Hawkeye sat down with a heavy sigh watching the building in front of her.

221b Baker Street. She had passed this street many times without a thought, so when she saw the tall dark pale man enter through the door with said plated numbers gave her the word this was his flat. Within a few days of knowing him, she saw another man enter. Shorter with cute blond hair a limp and dressed in a simple jacket, jumper, and jeans with black shoes. Helena saw he seemed stiff in his stance and walk, was it the limp that caused it. When she recently saw the man again he had no cane or limp, but walked stiffly still. Maybe still recovering, she was no medical person. While watching the flat on her tired days she saw the windows, Helena could easily scale those windows and climb in. The thought made her giggle, what a heart attack to give him to what she could sell in the flat. If anything were of worth to her there.

Hawk gave a thick swallow and stood deciding to scale herself down and walk among the streets. A stumble was in her step but away from the edge thankfully, as she made her way to the fire escape on the side of the building.

Why did he even bother? Should've taken more time to move in but, what choice did he have. Not that he should complain, his flat mate was the most pain in the arse in the world… Well, to him at times. John Watson walked his way back up to Baker Street after texted by Sherlock to meet somewhere. Though when he arrived Sherlock wasn't there, and then texted again saying he was at Bart's and no longer needed. He started this whole helping cases with Sherlock with no trouble, but when Sherlock texted him it drove him up a wall at the sudden drop of a hat.

He looked across the street seeing the flat, he heard noises from a narrow alley. John turned frowning with knotted brows. It sounded like, whimpering, crying? "Hello?" He called, being cautious as well leaning in. "Are you alright?"

Suddenly out of nowhere- thud! John gasped at the sudden drop of someone hitting the pavement. Seeing movement, he rushed to their side finding them to be alive. The body was shivering and having small spasms. A seizer, John thought? No, only the legs and neck are having these. He checked her forehead; fever and high with sweating. Her pulse; rapid heartbeat and difficulty breathing. John noticed a wound on her hand looking a bit infected, then he found the reason for this. With no hesitance Dr. Watson got his mobile out dialing 9-9-9. Like a good doctor, he stayed by the girl crying in pain from the spasms and breathing. He sat her up as gently as he could against the wall and stayed right by her.

Sherlock wasn't one for walks, so he was currently sitting in a cab trying to get a hold of John. He sent about five texts and no response. Surely he was fine, probably ignoring him like he did the other day asking for his laptop that was two feet away from him. He felt the cab jolt a bit and move to the side, Sherlock glanced up at the sound of sirens and saw an ambulance speed right by. It stopped right across from his flat, as he knocked on the glass. "Here's fine." Sherlock informed and climbed out paying the cabbie as he drove off passing the growing scene.

As the tall man strode past, he approached his door taking one final glance. Sherlock did a double take- What was John doing there? He spun and jogged across approaching John who was talking to a paramedic and they rushed out of the back and into the narrow alley. He was more curious than concern if anyone could even mistake that.

"High fever, muscle spasms, rapid heart rate; I'd say tetanus but- Sherlock?" John turned just to see his flatmate arrived with furrowed brows.

"What happened?" He asked mixed between the possible thought something happened to John and this turning to a crime scene right outside the flat. What a calling that would be. But he scanned John over, he was fine so Sherlock diminished that thought.

"I was walking back from your text," Oh so he was still annoyed by that. "And then this.. poor girl fell from above. Almost out of nowhere with muscle spasms."

Maybe Sherlock had walked in right at a becoming crime scene? Eager to see, he moved aside from John to lean in. His grin faded at the sight before him; Hawkeye. He never imagined to run into this girl again but he had, and this was a bizarre way for it to happen. Medical team were gently putting the scrawny ill girl onto the gurney while stimulating her the best they can. The men moved as they rolled her into the truck.

"Thanks." John told with a sigh as the paramedic climbed into the vehicle turning the sirens on and drove down speeding to the hospital. "Well, that was an event." He rubbed the creases in his forehead looking up to Sherlock. He noticed his expression changed a bit from before. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock watched the ambulance take the strange woman away, "Good job, John."

John chewed his lip thinking on his words. "I would say thank you, but the look on your face tells me you mean it in a different way." He licked his lips crossing his arms. "What was good?"

Sherlock glanced down to his medical doctor. "You just caught a criminal." He eyed down the street before turned to cross the street back to the flat.

John frowned with knotted brows confused watching his flatmate walk away. "..Sorry, what?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thanks a whole lot guys! I never expected you all to really like chapter one so much, it took a long time to encourage myself to write this and I hope it turns out great later on! It will be following the show as this takes place before the Blind Banker. Thanks for the reveiws as well and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Sherlock!" Yelled John as he stomped up the steps after the tall detective to their flat. "Sherlock," he called again as they entered said flat. "What did you mean?"<p>

"Mean what?" He asked innocently shrugging his coat off and going to an open laptop on the desk. More or less John's, hanging the coat over his chair by the fire place. Long fingers sped across the keys.

John blinked at him and scurried to the window looking outside as attention started dispersing. "You said, 'good job, John. You caught a criminal'." He said imitating Sherlock's low tone.

Sherlock rose a brow when he heard it, he did not sound like that. "Yes." He agreed to the quote.

"Why?"

"...Because you did." He told slowly, not seeing how John was confused by this. "Good job." Sherlock praised with short smile and returned to typing.

John rolled his eyes and came over slamming the laptop shut almost on Sherlock's fingers before snatching them out of the way. "A little elaboration would be most appreciated, as you love doing so."

"Well, if you were to move your hands off the laptop, I can 'elaborate' to you all you wish." He told pointedly patting the laptop.

John moved his hands letting Sherlock open the laptop to the page he was on. He hovered over behind the detective to see what he wanted to show. The page on the screen was of the Shard Tower incident. John remembered hearing about this when he returned, after a therapy session he had, but thought nothing of it.

"About a week ago, there was a 'dare devil' as Lestrade put it, standing on the top of Shard Tower. The person was chased by police once he started climbing down and into the building. Lestrade never caught him as people started gathering causing a scene, as well as the media's involvement. After a video from a bystander was shown, I had already deduced out he had escape without anyone noticing." Sherlock went on finding it useless for John to read the report as he kept his ears to listen. He stood letting John take the seat while Sherlock softly paced continuing on. "All the while the police were inside, a woman was robbed of her wedding ring in the crowd. She claims it was a tight fit on her finger and it was impossible for her to-"

"Sh-Sherlock," John caught off, much to Sherlock's annoyance of that. "How does ths connect to the girl sent to the hospital?"

Sherlock blinked as if given a stupid question to answer. "...Well, think about it John; The girl fell out of nowhere almost like from the sky. Why would a woman with signs of Tetanus fall from thin air and how?"

It took a while, but John leaned back in realization and pointed to the page, brows shooting up. "She was the one- But you said it was male."

"False claims," He dismissed hands now behind his back still pacing around. "She is mistaken as male by police by her skills, figure, and attire. Common occurrence by idiots."

John resisted to sigh but just nodded to seem like he agreed. "..How does this make her a criminal? Sure climbing towers and buildings isn't a law but I guess one can get fined or such."

Sherlock cleared his throat to continue, making John turn his attention back to him. "All the while the police were inside, a woman was robbed of her wedding ring in the crowd. She claims it was a tight fit on her finger and it was impossible for her to remove it herself unless soaked in something to loosen it."

That pause in this usually meant for John to put in his thought. "..Something like butter."

"Or grease."

"Grease? Like, cooking grease?"

"Oil."

"O-Oil? Where would they get oil?" John asked completely lost at this.

Sherlock grinned, oh lord. "That's where _she _comes into play. The police think she's still inside, but she had already made it out, to the ground and through the crowd. What could she have on her to grease the ring to slip it off?" Sherlock moved to show the video of her climbing down for John to see.

John watched and smiled, getting the idea. "So, she got the grease oils from the metals right?"

"Wrong." Sherlock bluntly told moving away.

The smile fell. "Wrong?...Then w-where? It's the only metal I see her touching." John leaned in to rewatch the video, a bit dumbfounded. "Where else could she get her fingers greased enough to.." When John turn to Sherlock; he was gone. The sound of the front door opening made the doctor jump to his feet and jog down to catch up with him to wherever they were going.

* * *

><p>Comfort… Why was she feeling comfort? Comfort was something she hadn't felt in years. Why now? Comfort was a bad sign… Warmth too. Warmth and comfort two bad things. Taking in a sharp breath smelling bleach and latex, she was somewhere clean. Ignoring the soreness in her muscles, Helena moved her body blinked her eyes open. Something tugged her arm and tightness was around her chest down her waist. This tightness was found to be a blanket keeping her in the bed, and the tugging of her arm was from am I.V. to a metal stand.<p>

Helena felt a tightness in her chest and breathing a bit harder then waking up, ripping the I.V. from her arm not caring about the small bleeding or pain that shoot from her hand on yanking it out. Her attire was a hospital gown that was tied for the side, good no exposing. Helena climbed from the bed and onto her feet, but the numb feeling was still there from her spasms so she struggled to walking to the window trying to work the locks. It didn't help with her injured hand was wrapped after being treated.

"Alright, I'm Doctor-What are you doing!?"

Finally snapping the lock open, Helena started climbing out but the doctor ran over grabbing her arm not letting her out to do God knows what. "Let me out! Let me go!" She cried clawing his hand off her. The drugs made her a bit dizzy still but she was feeling closed in which was causing her heart beat to speed up and breathing to become rapid.

"Please, calm down! You're ill and need to be in bed!" The doctor demanded now pulling her by the waist as she lost her footing. "I'll have to sedate you if you don't calm down!"

Helena threw an elbow at the man's face causing him to let go and hold his nose in pain. This caused her to fall to the ground and scramble for the window. A nurse heard yelling and came in seeing the sight before her, thankfully she had more sedation for her muscles. The doctor took it as the nurse grabbed her around the waist pulling her from the window as the doctor injected the drugs into her.

"I can't be in here! You can't lock me up!" She screeched, but soon was crying noneness before collapsing in the nurse's arms.

* * *

><p>"Sorry, we can't let anyone but family members in to see her." Said the nurse at the front desk looking at the men strangely. "Unless you are family, we can't…"<p>

"I understand all that, I'm a doctor myself. I just wanted my own examination on her if alright." John tried to excuse as Sherlock looked around like a bored child.

Despite it looked like John dragged Sherlock, it was vise versa. Sherlock wanted to see Hawkeye for a few answers to how she got the ring for John and confirm he was right. This was becoming difficult as the stupid people of his building had to have the 'family only' rule to seeing patients.

"Unless you are her personal doctor, sir, I can't-"

"O-Oh! But that's it, I am!" John gave with that idea popping up "Dr. John Watson, I was the one who called for an ambulance for her."

"..And him?" She asking pointing her pen at Sherlock who now looked over.

Sherlock gave a fake smile. "I'm his doctor in training." John gave a quick look before turning back for the nurse to see. "See," Sherlock approached leaning on the desk with a caring look. Fake. "When I heard about one of his patients had gotten ill, I wanted to come by and assist in anyway. Learning about the human body and helping them is something of my passion, and not letting us see her, it's.." Sherlock looked down and back up with glossy eyes. "..It breaks my heart just seeing her struggle without Dr. Watson here assisting her."

John was split between wanting to punch Sherlock or just down right laugh at his words. How could anyone fall for that malarky?

"Ohh, I totally understand you." She gave softly patting his hand.

Okay maybe this woman would. She let lead the two down the hall, explaining the latest with her. "She may still be sedated, but if you are here she might calm down without the drugs. I heard restraints might be needed if she acts up again."

"Once she sees us she should be calm." John said but had little hope in his words that it would work.

The nurse opened the door peeking in, the clatter of her clipboard and a gasped echoed. The men looked through seeing it empty. The nurse ran off calling for a doctor as the two entered the room to investigate. John went to the bed putting his hand there, warm so she wasn't gone for long.

"John." Sherlock called across the room.

John turned seeing Sherlock looking out an open window. He rushed over leaning out, looking around. "She wouldn't! If the drugs are still in her, she could fall off the building!"

"Only one way to find out." Sherlock grinned and left to find a way to the roof with John following.

* * *

><p>The fresh air of no toxins and tight warm enclosed space made her feel so much better. It was cold as hell but Helena was used to cold by now, still she wished she had her jacket. A blue dot perched on the edge of the hospital wasn't the best thought to her. Though when seeing structure nearly covering the building made it easy for her to climb without sight, but it took a while thanks to the damn drugs. At times her foot slipped or she didn't have tight enough grip but she made it. The thought made Helena grin tiredly, not even drugs can keep her down.<p>

None the less, she was still slightly sick and knew she needed the drugs and rest, but didn't want to be in that enclosed tight room. Being in the open seeing and feeling no walls made her feel relaxed enough to take the roof as her spot for resting.

"And to think," Helena turned hearing the door squeak. The drugs made her mind a bit slow so her reaction was a bit dulled, or she simply didn't care being caught. "I expected your body hanging off somewhere."

She found the man called Sherlock waltzing over to her with the nervous looking blond man. He took smaller shorter steps almost as if being careful around her. "..I don't plan to jump.." She gave softly, hand rubbing at her bandages. "So.. You don't have to tiptoe over to me.."

"She is right John, if she managed to climb up here half effected by the drugs what purpose would she gain from jumping here compared to her window?" Sherlock mused as he stood behind her as she sat with her feet dangling off the edge.

"..So, has Lestrade hound dog come to capture me like a dead fox?" Helena mused looking back to the horizon.

"Lestrade doesn't know of your presence here, and I have no purpose of letting him know." He informed promptly. "I am here merely to prove a point."

"And what shiny sharp point is that?"

"The ring." She side glanced to the blond short man as he gently approached. "..How did you get it off the woman?"

Helena was silent, that's all? Not even any doctors rushed up so she concluded that the men hadn't informed she was up here. Her eyes moved to Sherlock who stared at her knowingly waiting for her answer. "...You know don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you explain it, I'm too tired to." Helena rubbed her head, still dizzy from the drugs. Her climbing up here really took the remaining energy she had in her. She turned her body half way to listen on how he 'knew' on how she committed the crime.

Sherlock sighed, "John, you asked how did she easily slip the ring off the woman's finger." John nodded. "If you were to check her fingers now, you'll find the same oils on there as before."

John looked to her, but she didn't inclined to move for him to inspect her fingers obviously wanting her space. "From the metal bars outside the hospital?"

"No, common mistake. The oils are from the windows." John's brows knotted as Sherlock expected. "The hinges and outlines outside the window has a lubricant like grease to make sure it doesn't get stuck when in need of opening. She used the grease to lubricate the fingers of the woman easily sliding the ring off without the woman even feeling it as it would have dried from the cold morning air, once she notices."

John blinked, never thinking that. Damn, this girl was so resourceful. "..W-Wait, then how did she get out without anyone noticing?"

"That's simple-"

"I climbed out of the window on the other side where below was the building next to it. There was a underground tunnel to the side and the way the sun was the shadows were in my favor. No one saw me climb down that side, jump down to the roof and slide down to the streets blending in with the crowd." Helena informed quickly blinking her now stinging eyes; tired.

The two men looked to her, Sherlock grinned. She read the expression, impressed? It was the same as the night she robbed him. "..Should I ask how you knew it was those oils? You said you weren't involved or talked to the woman." John asked chewing his lip.

"It was because I robbed him did my scent of the oils get on your coat?" She asked raising a brow at him hugging her knee to her chest.

Sherlock's smile fell to a small frown. "More like the pocket." Helena nodded which made her sway.

"Wait, you encountered her, Sherlock? When?" John was struggling at being so out of the loop.

"I robbed him of his rubbish junk the night of the incident. He came after me for his stuff, which I commend to you, good sir." She scout saluted to him John moved closer to her. She was slowly losing consciousness. Being at the edge of the building didn't help John on the thought of her falling off.

"Look, how about we go back inside? You're still sick with-"

"No!" She suddenly barked glaring him. "I am not going back to where they can lock me up.. A-And keep me for their little game of tests!"

"No, listen. I'm a doctor, if you want I can be the one to treat you." he explained, she eyed him. "..They already think I'm your personal doctor so.."

"Cleithrophobia." Sherlock spoke up causing the attention to fall to him.

"..Pardon?" John asked as Helena glared him.

Sherlock's eyes shot to her finding her glare on him. "You suffer from a fear of Cleithrophobia; the fear of being locked or enclosed into places."

The military doctor looked over, that explained her climbing onto the roof. The hospital room was small, she must have had an episode causing the second sedation. "Either way, as a doctor I can't allow her to be up here making her illness worse. The cold air will make her worse as well a-shit!"

Helena's energy was worn out when they took noticed of her falling back towards the edge. Sherlock being closer caught her just in time and moved her body away from the edge towards John. The doctor checked her pulse, "..She needs to be in a bed and rest." He ordered. "But staying at a hospital might make it worse with that fear causing her anxiety. She can't be kept under drugs for that alone."

Sherlock listened and he knew where John was going with this, his blue deep eyes met Sherlock's electric ones. "No."

"Sherlock!"

"She is not staying at the flat, what help would that give?" Sherlocks stood stepping away shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.

"The main room is bigger than that room she was put in. Not to mention she won't feel as if she's being locked away like she does here." John propped her up against his knee holding her. She was small frail, when was the last she even properly ate? Well, she was homeless too.

"John, you can't take in every sick thing you see." He told as if telling a child not to take pets in.

"This is a human being, Sherlock!" He barked now angry, much to Sherlock's shock. Sure he'd seen much of John's angry display but, this one was different. "You also said so yourself, she was a criminal. What would happen if Scotland Yard found her, they'd lock her up. Resulting in her having attacks on this phobia which can result in death."

Sherlock thought death was a bit far, but arguing with John in this angry state wouldn't be the wisest. Tempted, he opened his mouth to do so, but John beat him to it.

"Don't even try to argue with me on this, Sherlock. I live in that flat too, so I decide as well. Not to mention how would Mrs. Hudson feel knowing you let a young woman die from this whole thing when you knew you could have done something. Yes, I know sentiment isn't something of you to have, but you have to have something called guilt in that heart people claim you don't have. And if you even _try_ to leave her here to her fate, than that will prove everyone else right about you."

"...Damnit."

* * *

><p>John: 1 Sherlock: 0<p>

That was the score so far, and it was surely to continue while the stay was being made. Sherlock looked to be pouting which he was, at his chair by the mantel staring at John tending to Helena. John hadn't gotten her name yet as she wasn't given a name at the hospital nor found a medical file on her. Currently he was trying to do so while setting her tea and meal, it was obvious Helena wanted to shovel the food down her throat but was resisting much to John's surprise. Hell the two were surprised she agreed to this at all. But seeing the open room must have assured her it was fine since she's woken up.

"If you need something smaller, I can try that." John offered trying to figure out why she wouldn't eat. "I can't give you the medicine until you've eaten."

Helena now in her usual clothing -now clean- had a blanket over her sitting up on the couch. "I've gone a long mile without food, just toss the meds to me and I'll live."

"I can't," John strained. "You'll get sick if you do, just half of the sandwich at best. It's something."

Helena just crossed her arms and looked away towards the window. It was closed, to Sherlock's orders but the curtains were drawn open for her to see outside.

"We can always just-"

"Sherlock.." John stopped him from his suggestion giving a look over his shoulder.

"Oh come off it, John!" Sherlock stood striding over to stand next to the crouching doctor. "She hasn't cooperated since she's been here. She refuses to give a name, eat, and rather suffer the effects of her medicine than be treated. And just by her looking out the window, she's routed four different ways of her escaping as well as when she took a peek at my room down the hall."

John looked over to Helena who rolled her eyes. "..Routed?"

"I can map things out. I've already mapped out how the whole flat is built from the front door to Sherlock's bedroom." Helena looked over. "You're room is above yes? Smaller than Sherlock's, but not that you seem to dislike it. You're one to keep to yourself on that, so size of a room is no bother but privacy is. So having a room to yourself on the second floor is perfect."

The two men stared at her; one shocked and the other impressed. "..Oh God, you're like him." John groaned standing to move to the other side of the room rubbing his forehead.

"Mapping out buildings that's new." Sherlock commented sitting into the chair by the door.

Helena was silent for a moment watching them. "..Is it that much of a shocker?" She questioned seeing two different reactions. "I mean, hell you seemed mind blown during our chase."

"S-Sorry, what?" John looked between the two who looked up at him. "Chase? When did you chase her? Is there more I don't know?"

"..He's very slow isn't he?"

"Hm, quite."

John exasperated at those statements tossing his arms up in defeat. "My _greatest _apologies…" He trailed off begging for a name to finish his sarcasm remark for the two.

"..Hawkeye."

"Helena."

Sherlock looked to her now his expression change with low brows. "Helena?"

She sighed. "Hawkeye is my street name, Helena is my birth name. Seeing as you two aren't going to tell Lestrade about my location, I.. Think I can give you my first name. After all, you also decided to take me in from that _cage_." Helena spat.

"Okay, before we go any further." John put his hands on his hips looking between the two. "Why was he chasing you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, Helena cleared her throat to answer. "Simple; I pick pocketed him the night of the incident with the news and all. We just bumped into each other, while moving I shoveled out what was in his coat pocket." She shrugged. "Useless bits, notebook, weird tools, some.. magnifier- which in all honesty I wanted to keep."

Sherlock scoffed. "Like I'd allow that."

"Continue, Helena." John sighed giving a short look to Sherlock.

"I was on a roof looking over his stuff, when I got his cellphone." Helena glanced. "Which by the way, how did you text that message and know I was there?" She asked the detective.

"Easy; I asked to have the text sent to my phone. I emailed Lestrade I had my phone missing and needed him to send a texted. I asked to text those words exactly as well as a certain time." Sherlock explained letting his hands steeple together under his chin.

"But the timing and finding me?" Helena reached for a tea, John stayed silent in hopes she'd take the sandwich as well. It seemed talking like this to someone with the near same mind calmed her enough to consume something.

"Timing was just luck, finding you was easy. When I retraced my steps to where I bumped into you, I deduced where you would be hiding and eliminated the obvious of a usual pickpocket. Most would hide behind alleys or inside the buildings, but no; you were _on top_."

A smirk broke out on Helena's face. "...That's impressive, Sherlock. We are indeed a like."

"That's what I was afraid of." John moaned running a hand over his face.

"Regret bringing her here?"

"Of course not.. If anything it was good for her own benefit." John argued nodding to Helena.

Now she was chewing on half of the ham sandwich. She swallowed thickly and put it back down, "Can I have my medicine now?"

John nodded and got up to get it from the fridge. Taking note to put it away from the bag of fingers. Sherlock grew silent, hands still in place now at his lips. Helena watched him curiously, and looked around the room. The men had some… unique items in their flat. Skull on the mantle, random books assorted around the shelves, some other items looked to be things found in an antique shop while others were really modernized. It peaked Helena's interest as to why Sherlock and John owned each item in the flat… and what the worth was. But Ferry might find trouble to sell them so he probably wouldn't accept them as much as tech and jewelry.

Sherlock watched her eye everything in the room, what must be going through her head. John soon returned with the antibiotics that Helena graciously swallowed with no trouble and sipping more of the tea. "How long do you plan on me staying? I should be going back."

"Back to what? You're homeless." Sherlock told bluntly making John give his look of disapproval.

Helena glared the dark haired man. "Yes I am, is it bothering you a filthy ill hobo is occupying your couch?"

"Just a tad." He squeaked scrunching his face in fake disgust, but stood and strode to the kitchen.

"Don't mind him," John said taking Sherlock's seat. "He's like this with everyone. And at least until you are better. How's your legs or hand?"

Helena sighed and laid down wrapping the blankets tightly around her. "Numb, even if I wanted to I can't leave until I can properly walk let alone run."

John nodded and leaned back, only noise was the sound of test tubes clinking, so Sherlock was probably doing one of his experiments. John hopped this meant the fingers can be put back at Bart's. "..So, um. How did you do it?"

A scoff escaped her as she glanced to him. "That can mean anything."

"I mean, how did you get on top of Shard Tower?" John asked folding his arms over his chest. He was indeed curious to how it was done.

"That's something I keep to myself." She answered and brought the blanket over her head indicating she was done talking.

John took the hint, he stood with a grunt and walked to the kitchen finding Sherlock was indeed playing with the fingers. Though he guessed pouring some sort of acid over the fingernails didn't count as 'playing'. John poured himself a cup of tea, and seeing Sherlock without one decided to pour him a cup. Once he placed it by him, Sherlock reached for it and sipped it as if expecting it.

"Think she'll try to leave?" John asked shoving a hand into his jeans pocket leaning on the stove.

"I think stealing is something to be more concerned about than leaving." Sherlock answered putting his cup down.

A frown appeared. "Stealing?"

Sherlock sighed and looked up to his flat mate. "John, you forget she's a criminal. She stole that woman's ring."

Watson nodded remembering. "..Does she still have it?"

The dark detective looked back down into his microscope adjusting the lenses for a moment. "No, I asked about any objects she had at the hospital. No money, no ring nothing. So, what did she do with the ring?" Sherlock glanced back up. John's turn.

The doctor sighed in thought, "..Maybe for food or drink?"

"Impossible, she was listed to be malnourished meaning Helena hasn't eaten properly in so long. Notice how she didn't take the food right away or even the tea, she just wanted the medicine and leave." Sherlock corrected, leaning back in his chair and steepled his hands to his lips. "No, she did something with the ring, sold or pawned it at most for money. But if she did, the money wouldn't be put towards herself… But another."

"..Sentiment?" John inquired.

"Something of that sort, yes." Sherlock stood going to the main room getting his coat and scarf. "It's best to keep an eye on her. We can't risk her stealing something and running off to do what knows with it."

John followed seeing Helena had fallen asleep, face no longer hidden under the blanket. "Where are you going?"

Sherlock looped the scarf around him and slid his gloves on. "To research." Was his answer and bounded down the steps not caring to wake Helena or not.

This left John to watch her not that he minded as she was now his patient. With reminding himself she as a criminal made him keep his attention on her at all times. At the back of his mind, the nagging thought that this girl was no danger at all. Not to him at the most, nor Sherlock. She seemed to be the girl to handle herself being homeless for who knows how long. A few weeks, months at most?

John walked to the window looking out as night grew closer. Stomach growled demanding for dinner, question was what would said dinner even be? Thanks to Sherlock using the kitchen as a science lab, cooking or even storing food wasn't possible. He made a mental note to go shopping next week.

The doctor decided to just order Chinese carryout. He knew what Sherlock and he liked, but with Helena eating not as much, he just ordered white rice. It was good for her and wouldn't be too heavy as well.

* * *

><p>Dark musky, filthy and more important, crowded. Though even with his torch helping him light his way through the dark under passages of the carriageway, no one was giving his help. Be it someone in his homeless network or just some homeless person, no one would give him answers when the name 'Hawkeye' was mentioned.<p>

This made him even more suspicious on this. They were defending her, keeping any information that knew of her safe for her. But why? Sure, some people look out for each other, but he assured she was safe at his place after taking ill. Why didn't that assure it for the passable information?

Some would just walk away while others said they knew nothing much. He was getting aggravated by the minute, finding this all for not. Sherlock wasn't going to give up, he went in deeper finding a metal drum with flames spewing from it. People huddle in front of it for warmth, he approached them gently, one of them looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, what can we do for you?" One woman asked rubbing her gloved hands together not caring if they matched.

Sherlock kept his distance, sure he helped them with them helping back, but he still was one to keep cleanliness to his mind. "Without giving the urge to grow silent or walk away, can you tell me anything on someone of the name Ha..Helena?"

Three had already walked away, one kept a watching resisting to leave, while the one Sherlock was talking to raised a brow at him. "You sure you don't mean Hawkeye?"

Sherlock shifted in his stance, "If I said that you would have left without a answer, yes?"

She nodded with a knowing smile. "Helena, or as she likes to be called, Hawkeye is someone very important to us. Someone who cares for us."

"Then why is it no one will speak of her? Not even ones in the network, I've assured she is safe and well." Sherlock told giving a sigh glancing his eyes around.

The one person decided to stay, coughing into their fist. "That's all dandy, but we still shouldn't speak anymore of it." He insisted giving the woman a look to silence herself any further.

"It's alright, Trevor. We can trust Sherlock, we've helped him before." She assured giving him a look back.

The man, Trevor, scoffed and folded his arms shivering as a wind blew by. "I only ask what her motives are." Sherlock stated letting the cold breeze move the ends of his coat about his legs.

"Her motives? She's no criminal, Mr. Holmes. If anything she is a saint, to me, Trevor, all of us." She told straining her voice at how high the defense was for Helena.

"..Saint?" Sherlock questioned not seeing the connection. Helena played 'catch me' with the police and robbed people. Including him! She found it to be a fun game when he had to chase her for his stuff back. It was not fun to him. "How is she a saint?" He asked near spatting at the word.

Trevor sighed, "If it wasn't for her, most of us wouldn't be here now." He stated glaring the detective. "I hear you're such a smart 'deducing' man. Deduce that." Trevor spat at Sherlock before taking the woman's hand and dragging her away to a group by another fire.

The detective found his job done, and turned to return to Baker Street. In the cab ride, he tried to piece together why she would be defended so highly and claimed as a 'saint'. Would Helena agree to that? Sherlock knows he won't get any answer out of her.

Sherlock looked out the window going to his mind palace. Helena stole the ring for a purpose, and after a week no longer has it. The odds of losing it was low as he noticed a small bag tied to her waist to keep said trinkets when she robbed people. When Helena got Sherlock stuff, she gave chase not to get away but to challenge him to get them back. Soon she returned them including the phone. He remember she saw something on his phone that made her toss the device, last on the screen was a text from Lestrade. Made sense, any connection to the police would make her want to get away and cut connections. She liked the challenge Sherlock gave, but found no use to his use was that; money. Trade it in for money. One could get a good amount from jewelry so she aimed for that. Where did the money go after that, not herself, no. Sherlock dismissed that already, but to another. Yes, it was food and water for the homeless, not herself. John was half right, food for them not her.

Once he felt the cab stop, he found 221b in front of him. Sherlock paid the cabbie and left entering the home. Stalking up the stairs and into the flat, he found John sleeping in the chair to watch Helena… Who was not on the couch. His eyes narrowed, door was locked and windows were shut. Sherlock moved down to his room passing the bathroom hearing water running, that stopped him in his tracks. Shower? Within a few seconds the water turned off, Sherlock stayed waiting to see if it was Helena in there. Then again who else would it be?

His answer was given to indeed be Helena as she emerged in his blue robe tight wrapped around her small thin body. She looked up with her auburn hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. Helena wasn't embarrassed or anything in only Sherlock's robe, but she looked better than before.

"..Evening." She gave softly moving some wet strands behind her ear. Sherlock just stared at her, lips thin eyes trained on her. Helena moved away from the door, "Need the loo?" She asked pointing her thumb at the door.

Still no answer, did she break him? Helena got on her toes waving a hand in his face exaggerating her height to his. Him being 6 ft. and her being 5'7 he estimated. Two inches taller than John, poor sod.

"..Okay, I'm going to dry off and change back into my clothing." She told slowly as if Sherlock's brain had indeed broken. "..Is there anything you would like to question or… say before I disappear again?"

Sherlock blinked, and opened his mouth finally stating. "That's my robe."

Helena looked down at herself, "Oh, I assumed so as it's a bit long and tight for John to wear." She looked back up. "..He said if I could I can take a shower. And you didn't want a," She cleared her throat and made the quotation marks with her fingers stating, " 'Filthy ill hobo' laying on your furniture after all." Helena folded her arms smirking.

"That's my robe. Did John say you could use my robe?" Sherlock frowned like a child had his toy taken from him.

Helena chewed her cheek humming as if trying to remember. Finally she beamed a short smile answering, "Nope." And returned to the bathroom with a slam of the door.

"John!" Barked Sherlock stomping into the living room waking the doctor in a shock from the bellowing yell. "I want her out now!"

"W-What!? What happened?" John stumbled to his feet, seeing the couch empty. "Where's Helena?"

"In the loo, just finished her lovely relaxing clean shower getting dressed as we speak. Seeing as she can walk all the way from here to there, stand for a good amount of time for a twenty minute shower. I say it's time to send her away with a lunch pack for her medicine and-"

A sudden thud echoed from the bathroom gaining the mens' attention. John rushed past Sherlock, "Helena? Are you alright?" He asked knocking on the door.

Sherlock watched approaching the entrance to the kitchen.

"Y-Yea, just lost… my footing.." Her voice sounded strained.

"Can you get up? Where did you fall?" John asked hand at the door handle ready to enter if need be.

"Dr. W-Watson.. I need some assistance if you.. p-please!" She cried, giving John the intention to run in and shut the door behind him.

Sherlock removed his coat and scarf, hung it by the door. "Damn." He cussed hands on his hips pacing in anger. Of course, timing was not on his side with this woman. She was fine enough to leave and be out of his flat and sight, but no. Just had to go and fall!

Her fall was indeed bad, she was feeling fine but felt her legs go numb when she was combing her hair out. Thankfully dressed, John carried her to the couch and she laid there for the rest of the night. John went to bed, as Sherlock stayed in the living room into the late night on his laptop. Bored. He needed a case.

Having the homeless woman watch her didn't help, she didn't talk much to his pleasure. But she was instead playing with anything within her reach. Pencil, plate, chopsticks, violi- wait!

Sherlock's eyes snapped up when he heard the plucking of his strings. "No,no!" He scolded like she was a dog dashing to get his precious violin from her thin grabby hands.

Helena gave an offended look. "I promise, I wasn't stealing it. I mean, I didn't make it very far did I?" She asked sarcastically folding her arms.

Sherlock sighed gripping the neck of his violin and took his bow. "If you wish to entertain yourself, I insist you don't." He instructed going to his chair placing the instrument gently.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be wide awake thanks to that nap I took during you leave. Which by the way, better not have been to Scotland Yard." She told darkly narrowing her eyes at him.

"You should put more trust in me of not 'tattling' you to Lestrade." The detective twirled the bow in his hand watching her pout.

"Oh! Just as you trust me into not stealing any of your knick knacks?" Helena retorted. "Where would I hide them? In your bushy bouncy hair? Or how about up the flue? No one _ever_ thinks to hide anything there!"

Sherlock could argue on that, as that's where he hide his cigarettes. He took a mental note to hide them elsewhere. Helena sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, how about we make a deal until I am free from here. Because as gracious as I am, I rather be out there." She stated point at the window.

"...Go on." Sherlock insisted taking his violin and sitting down in his chair.

"We can make a deal that you trust me to not steal anything while I am healing, and I trust you to not telling Lestrade of my location." She held a hand out which Sherlock eyed across the room. "Oh come on, I showered. With soap." Helena added chuckling.

Sherlock stood and too long strides over to her. Switching his violin to his other hand with the bow, he gently took her hand shaking it. "Deal."

Helena sighed and laid down, "Good, now all is well."

Helena played with the chopsticks, silence taking over once more. Though it didn't last, the long string sound of a instrument softly cut through the silence. Her dark eyes looked up to see Sherlock playing the violin eyes closed as he stood tall and proud. His fingers numbly held the strings as for the right tunes and bow tilting up and down moving left and right creating the beautiful music. Helena never heard such a poetic peaceful sound living on the streets. It was, relaxing and honestly beautiful. She never expected a high strong inpatient man like Sherlock Holmes to play such a soft slow moving tune on that wooden craft instrument.

The homeless girl found her eyes lids growing heavier as each tune played out. Sherlock took a peek at her, seeing her eyes close and a small smile dance on her lips falling to sleep. He grinned, finding it truth to the soothing sound of a violin to put one to sleep. Much to John's argument, who was no doubt covering his head with his pillow at this moment. Sherlock continued playing for a bit longer making sure Helena as asleep completely before stopping his little private performance and going to bed for his own slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

I got this one out sooner from thanks to my new tablet! I can now write while on the go! So long as I got internet.. Hmm, but yea! If there are misspellings or grammar errors it's probably from the tablet. Still getting used to it. Thanks, remember to review!

* * *

><p>The next morning, Helena wasn't any better. John woke up early finding her with a fever, he placed a cold wet cloth on her forehead and wrapped one around her wrist. Helena constantly removed it and soon it stayed that way, laying on the coffee table. She was cold and shivering wrapping in two blankets, John offering his. The doctor had to go out sadly that day and go shopping, he was pacing for two hours that morning mulling over on leaving her here with Sherlock. He knew the childish man hated Helena being here with whining about her in his robe after her shower.<p>

"Dr. Watson?" John turned seeing Helena waking from her fever sleep turning over to him, the cloth falling to the floor. "Who keeps walking..?" She asked rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry.." He moved over picking it up, it was dry. Placing a hand on her forehead, she still had the fever. "I'll have to get you something to lower your temperature." He told her going to the kitchen to get the cloth wet and cold once more.

Helena curls up again wincing as her leg muscles hurt. She knew she pushed herself with the shower and walking around. Standing in there for about an hour at most, she forgot what a shower or feeling clean even felt like.

The sound of a door opening signaled Sherlock was awake… or always was. Hard to tell, God knows how much that man sleeps. Sort of like a giraffe; tall like one and sleep no more than five minutes. The dark haired detective dressed in his white dress shirt, black trousers, and buttoning on his suit jacket. Sherlock found the doctor in the kitchen at the sink with the cloth. He groaned in annoyance making John speak first turning the faucet off.

"Yes, she's still here." He told ringing the cloth out cold water droplets escape down the drain.

"You're going out." Sherlock sighed peeking into the living room indeed finding the homeless woman sleeping on the couch balled up in the blankets. Ah, thats what the groan was for.

"Well, someone has to do the shopping." John tried to reason turning to him. "While I do that, someone has to stay here and watch Helena."

Sherlock for once was pondering on picking to go shopping… Though last time he did he brought back bread and milk. Can't do much with that. Sherlocked looked to her again, by her condition she should stay asleep during the leave. John walked past his detective friend and knelt down putting the cloth gently on her head not to wake her up. Sherlock then got a thought in his head.

"..I have a case." He speaks up, John turns almost testing the detective's features to see if he's lying. "The Jaria Diamond, offered last night. Remember?"

John shakes his head. "It won't take me long." He assured fixing the collar of his coat. "Besides you said it wouldn't be worth leaving the flat."

Damn he did. He actually didn't find the case all that interesting after getting an email that morning on how he was being demanded to take it. But he won't tell John that. "..Fine." He told stiffly and took his seat at his chair with a huff.

"I won't be long. We need a few things, then I come back, got it?" John asked softly going to his chair tossing his coat on.

Sherlocked looked between the two, as if given the school pet to watch over for the weekend. John knew how he felt 'taking care' of people let alone himself. Hell, having Mrs. Hudson come up to chat annoyed Sherlock enough. But John saw these two could get along; thought alike and were indeed a unique pair.

John soon left to his shopping, Helena still slept, and Sherlock sat watching her intently. He didn't dare move a muscle, not in fear to waking her. The possible thought of drugging her back to sleep came to mind… But then Dr. Watson would know and- Now thinking the effort wouldn't be worth it.

The woman did moved now and then, wincing as she moved her legs. Sherlock watched her intently, taking in her sleeping face, as the hood of her jacket hid her all her hair but her bangs hanging off the side of her face. She soon moved her head causing that damn cloth to slap to the floor. Sherlock hesitated but got up from his seat, picked up the cloth dainty and placed it back, feeling the burning heat from her forehead. That shower, a hot one, didn't help her with standing so long and the temperature of the water. Probably a very long time since she had warmth come anywhere close to her body, longing for it.

The sudden sound of a doorbell made Sherlock tense and looked to the doorway. A client of all days, well maybe an excuse to leave. Mrs. Hudson could take care of Helena-Does she even know she's here?

Soon banging came upon the door, Sherlock sighed and rushed down the steps seeing Mrs. Hudson's door locked. Ah, she was out today. Sherlock walked over answering the door to his new client.

* * *

><p>Today must have been shopping day for everyone. John walked through shuffling past trolleys and trying to find food for them to eat that as needed. People crowded, barely hearing his own thoughts to what to get. John pondered if there were sales going on.<p>

The doctor managed to get some off the shelf medicine to help Helena's fever. As well as some foods for her. Some veggies as well, fruits didn't seem appealing but he managed to get some apples at most. "That should be enough.. Sherlock better not empty the fridge again." He said to himself going to check out.

* * *

><p>"Helena? Helena.." The low voice indicated someone was waking her from her fevered slumber. Good, she was dreaming of some scary stuff from her fever. Her brown eyes squinted open to see Sherlock roughly moving her from the couch. "Get up."<p>

"W-What? What is it..?" She mumbled yanking her arm back that he was pulling her up by. She found him trying to get her off the couch, her mind coming awake but her legs still felt a it painful from the spasms last night.

"Just get up, and go to the other room." He told getting her to her feet as the blankets fell off her.

Helena stumbled getting away from his grip and leaning on the chair by the doorway. "What? How come? I was fine here. And why are you whispering? I'm already awake." The homeless woman grumbled glaring him.

Sherlock gritted his teeth in annoyance, he glanced to the kitchen then to her. "Just go down stairs or up to John's room. Anywhere but here right now." He told urgently and walked into the kitchen.

Helena looked behind her seeing the stairs down to the entry way or up to John's room. She didn't think her legs can get her up or down the flight as it hurt just standing. Not to mention, why was he rushing her out of the room? That and who was in the kitchen angrily talking to Sherlock in some Middle Eastern like accent, or maybe Egyptian. Helena didn't know, she was moving back to the couch when she heard a sudden yell.

* * *

><p>As crowded as it was, the lines in the two self-service checkouts were short much to John's relief. He wanted to return to the flat as quickly as possible, with possible thoughts on leaving the two super minds alone. A short queue started behind him, but he assured himself he'd be quick and out. Just as his turn arrive, he started scanning the items, until-<p>

"Unexpected item in bagging area. Please try again." Came the automated voice.

Thinking nothing of it, John gave a glance around at the volume of the voice and decided to give it another try.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, things were as what John could never imagine. Helena watched as Sherlock dodged backwards from the kitchen into the living room from his heavy hooded and robed attacking. Shrouded in what Helena guessed was different kinds of material of scarves mostly. Swinging his sword, trying to give a slash at the lanky detective the two moved closer to her much to her despair. Sherlock knocked her back onto the couch and couch himself against her chest by his back trying to fight off the attacker and keep her from harm. -mostly for John's sake-<p>

"Get off me!" She cried pushing Sherlock off. He kicked the man in the chest knocking him off the two, stumbling backwards.

Sherlock stood adjusting his suit jacket and huffed in annoyance at the fact he had to watch himself _and_ Helena of this man. Though Helena herself stood with better ease watching, her heart pumped seeing this before her as Sherlock did more weaving to dodge the swords than actually fight back.

* * *

><p>John was now leaning close down, barcode against the clear screen with the red decter shining up at the item. How can it not scan it? It wasn't crumpled or damaged so why?<p>

"Item not scanned. Please try again." Was the voice growing louder?

John straightened and gave it an exasperated look. "D'you think you could keep your voice down?"

* * *

><p>Sherlock found himself near strapped to the kitchen table -thankfully he moved his set to the counter night before- the sword of his attacker near at his neck in attempt to slice his head off. He kept a tight grip on the man's wrists to keep said weapon from doing so. Thought with a grimacing effort it was becoming hard with his current position. Trying to get him off, Sherlock throws his left knee into the man's right side, still not moving but the painful yelp did something. So he gave the man two more kicks, still kept his grip on him; weakened only a little.<p>

From behind Helena got enough to go into the kitchen seeing Sherlock's distress of becoming a new specimen at Bart's. Helena couldn't use her legs, so she dug her elbow into the man's spine causing him to loosen his grip on Sherlock not expecting the attack or pain. The dark detective seeing his opening pushed the man's right wrist upwards making the point of the blade scrape across the surface of the table but freed Sherlock from possible death. Or just a cut to his cheek. The man thudded onto the floor as Sherlock forced himself back up next to Helena. No time to even thank or question her methods as the man stood again not completely done yet.

* * *

><p>John <em><strong>still<strong>_ struggled with the check out, but managed to get all the items scanned. Which took about.. eight times. The short line behind him now grew large seeing so many impatient people made him feel he had to rush out of there. So, the doctor swiped his card at the chip-and-PIN machine and put his PIN code in. He stood back ready to get the near fifty questions of his payment before this stops him.

"Card not authorised." Yes the voice was louder. "Please use an alternative method of payment."

"Yes, All right!" John, with shorter patience, barked at it. "I've got it!" The man behind him gave a look as to why he was putting an effort into yelling at the machine.

The voice repeats, "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment."

John reaches back for his wallet as the man picks his basket ready to use the scanner next. He finally sees how long the line has gotten and clears his throat in looking for cash. Checking all his pockets, nothing.

"Got nothing." He mutterers and starts backing away at the machine pointing at it. "Right, keep it. Keep that." The man behind him looks a bit bewildered that he left his items back and just… walked off in a huff of anger. Looking down he see he might have possibly left his card in the said machine.

John almost wishes he sent Sherlock out shopping.

* * *

><p>The fight returned to the living room as Sherlock backed Helena away from the man in a distance of safety from the swinging sword. He continued to dodge and weave from the attacker, when Sherlock suddenly straightens and points in a direction behind the man. Helena catches on.<p>

"Look!" He cries.

"Oh shit!" Helena calls out looking and pointing as well which was at the mirror above the mental.

The man half turns in the looking at the mirror for a split moment before turning back. Sherlock and Helena both swing a upper cut to the man's cut, he falls back unconscious into the gray leather chair dropping the sword to the floor. Panting softly from Sherlock as he straightens his jacket glancing into the mirror, also fixing his cuffs shirt, and dusting something off his jacket. Helena pushed her hood off her head leaning on her knees looking up at him panting a bit herself. She hasn't gotten much fun like that since she's gotten sick… Pretty much since she had that chase with Sherlock in the streets.

"That was… what you wanted me out for?" She asked nodding her head to the man.

Sherlock gave a sniff and looked down at her. "Yes, but I see it was good to keep you here." He gave her a wink and glance at the man with disdain.

She shook her head with a chuckle. "What should we tell John?" Helena asked standing straight adjusting her jacket that was off her shoulder now.

"Nothing. He won't need to know an attacker came by with you, an ill frail woman, got mixed up into it." Sherlock looked at her up and down. Yes, she did give a look when the word 'frail' was used. "Though he will question the sudden change in health." His hand rose up to her forehead moving the hair a tad from her face. "..And fever has gone down."

She felt her own forehead once his hand was removed, his hands were soft. "..Huh."

"Fix yourself up, I'll take care of him." He assured walking into the kitchen.

Helena glanced at the man then to the couch. She gently walked over, knees felt a bit shaky but other than that. Her muscles felt as if nothing happened from her illness. Helena picked up the blankets and placed them back over the couch as she threw herself on there watching Sherlock do his work of 'hiding the evidence'.

If John returned any sooner, he might have caught Sherlock dragging the body to who knows where of the violent man. As the doctor came up the flat entering the room, he found the place still in one piece. Though what he didn't expect to find was Sherlock and Helena quietly among themselves, or Helena even awake and looking a bit better. The tall detective sat at his chair innocently reading a book, Helena took note he actually was reading it as there was a paper by his side where from where he last left off. She now perched herself onto the end of the couch trying to get a good glimpse of outside. The windows didn't open much to her disdain wishing for a good breeze of outside hair.

John paused at the door and looked between the two, then around the room. "You took your time." Sherlock commented not looking up from his book.

Helena looked over, and tilted her head, he did say he was getting stuff didn't he? "..I thought you went shopping." She asked softly hoping she didn't dream it.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." He answered glancing to her.

Sherlock looked up indeed finding the man with no bags of food. "What? Why not?" He asked a bit surprised that he came back empty handed. Impossible the store had nothing that John mentally listed to get.

John turned to Sherlock and answered still a bit of anger in his tone. "Because I had a row, with a chip-and-PIN machine."

Helena only raised a brow with an amused grin. Oh the looks he must have got. Sherlock tried to picture it, as to why he was arguing with a unresponsive machine. "You.." He lowered his book more, tilting his head still a bit befuddled at John's answer. "You had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of." He answered. "It sat there and I shouted abuse at it. Have you got cash?"

"Did it eat your card?" Helena asked, "Or your cash?" She added.

The two glanced to her, "I got no cash on me and.. I left my card back in the machine." He swallowed.

Sherlock gave a bemused smile. "Take my card." He told nodding to the kitchen where his wallet sat on the table. Must have fallen out during the struggle.

John gave a glance to Helena before moving to the kitchen, but he paused and gives Sherlock an indignant look. "You could've gone yourself while I stay here with Helena. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not moved since I left, Helena sick and she's moved more than you have." Sherlock sighs as he nonchalantly turns the page of his book.

Helena gives a sighing smile and shakes her head, oh how he didn't know. "You wanted me to stay, so I stayed to watch her." Sherlock defended.

"And he's been so good!" She praised having Sherlock nodd in agreement. "Telling me tales of his cases, like this one guy who jumped and attacked him without a thing to do." Sherlock gave her a death glare from the corner of his eye. Oh, should've expected this. "Only to have him be rescued, giving him the title damsel of distress." She gave a wink to him only to turn back to John who was rummaging for the card in his wallet.

"That's good. So, that case you were offered- the Jaria Diamond?" John asked hoping he didn't really leave and she has a fever dream.

Sherlock took the paper he used as a bookmark into the newly turned page. "Not interested." He answered with a 'bored' tone and shut the book, looking to Helena. Her eyes shot down, Sherlock shortly kicked the sword further under the chair from John spotting it using as an excuse to cross his legs. "I sent them the message."

John finally found the card, then noticed the mark on the table. Sherlock watched him as John rubbed his finger feeling the damage with a sighing whisper. "Ugh, Holmes." He leaned on his knuckles looking to Sherlock who looked back like an innocent puppy. John just trots down the stairs as Sherlock smirks to himself tapping the book waiting for the door to shut. Once he heard the slam, he put the book to the side, reaching down for the sword.

"Where is that bad boy gonna go?" Helena asks more sitting on the arm of the couch to see outside better.

"I'll have a place to put it somewhere… Unless you want it?" He offers pointing it in her direction.

She gives it a look and shakes her head. Helena wasn't a sword person and Ferry couldn't make much money off of that. She had a better chance with the skull or violin. "So," Helena hugged her knees careful of the printer behind her now noticing it. "is the everyday life of Sherlock this?"

"Not everyday." He muses getting up to hide the sword somewhere in his room. John never really went in there unless Sherlock asked him to get something there.

"Not a boring life then, right?" She called playing with the ends of her string entangled sleeves.

Sherlock returned and sat at the dining table opening the red laptop that sat there all morning. "It can get boring." He said with disdain. Obviously not a fan of boredom, who would be?

Helena nodded and sighed sliding back onto the couch. While Sherlock typed away clicking a few times, the girl got bored herself. She stood and gently walked over to see the books he hand leaning a hand on the side of the shelf behind the detective. 'The Diary of Jack The Ripper', typical of him. 'Signature Killers',' Holy Bible'. "Woah, never seen a bible before." She chuckled tapping it gently.

Sherlock watched her in the reflection of the screen seeing her look over the books. Not in suspicioun of her stealing, but to see what she was picking to read. Helena first pulled out 'Mother Courage and Her Children', but seeing the cover made he slide it right back in. She browsed more and tapped on 'Sleepers: A True Story When Friendship Runs Deeper Than Blood', notting to read that later. Finally she pulled out of her interest, 'Bringing Down the House: How Six Students Took Vegas for Millions'. Helena nodded plopped into his chair opening the book to begin reading. She didn't think twice on Sherlock having this American book, but she's seen the movie and the methods of how they got the money would be of Sherlock's interest.

Helena soon moved to sitting at the window by Sherlock as he gazed at the email he had received that morning. Though he dreaded at opening at first, but then when the call of being a consulting detective and 'begging for help can into play. Sherlock folded his hands at his lips in deep thought to help this old school mate.

Helena and Sherlock revelled in the silence between them. Only the sounds of London life echoing in the background for them.

* * *

><p>Slamming the door behind him with the shove of his foot, John staggered the stairs with a strong effort carrying several plastic bags.<p>

"Don't worry about me I can manage." He told sarcastically at Sherlock who cast a short glance his way.

Helena looked up engrossed in her book noticing John's return. She knew the sarcasm was indeed to the consulting detective and not her. Soft thunks of the bags plumped onto the table as John started putting the assorted foods away.

"How are you feeling, Helena?" The doctor asked from the kitchen.

"A tad better, yes. Maybe I can finally be on my way." She told cheerfully knocking her knees together.

"I'll be the judge of that." He chuckled.

"Her fever has broken, though still has trouble getting to her feet and standing for a long period of time." Sherlock said giving his input.

Helena gave a scowl towards the man, who hide the urge to sneer. John shook his head, then looked to his flat mate seeing him stare down the screen of the laptop. Hesitant but asked, "Is that my computer?"

"Of course." Sherlock answered and started typing a reply to the email.

"What!?" He exasperates shocked Sherlock's quick answer.

"Mine was in the bedroom." Helena snorted at that looking between the two.

"What, you couldn't be bothered to get up?" He asked stepping into the room removing his coat.

"Something like that." Helena grinned turning the page, she reached up on the desk to Sherlock's left getting a piece of paper to use as a bookmark.

John looked to her than to Sherlock. "It's password protected!"

Sherlock tilted his head to acknowledging that statement. "In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." He glanced to John. "Not exactly fort Knox." He told showing his disappointment to John's chosen password.

"Right," John slammed the laptop shut, Sherlock moved his fingers to above them being shut on. "thank you." John took his violated laptop away from him and placed it on the floor by his chair and sat down in it.

Sherlock blinked not able to send the reply, rude. Helena watched the two with a grin as the detective propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together against his lips with a thoughtful sigh. John looked over the mail he found to his left, Helena closed her book and finally spoke.

"Are you two married?"

John shut up with that, "No- Why does everyone think that?"

Helena stood leaning on the wall wincing a bit. "Well, seeing how Sherlock took your laptop and you did the shopping using his card. Then you two have little back and forths with each other." She walked slowly to Sherlock's chair sitting across from John who watched her. "Either brother's or married. You two look nothing alike but then again, genes tend to jump around."

His jaw hung off a bit, not expecting that whole thought on why she assumed they'd be a couple. "..To answer that, Helena we are not married nor brothers. Just.. flatmates." he sighed looking at the bills. "..In need of money." He mumbled that last bit.

The homeless criminal chuckled, "Well, if money is what you need-"

"Not that kind of money." John stated furrowing his brows at what she was about to imply. That night she fell, Sherlock explained how she was getting the money and where that ring had gone to.

"Come on! Just one item, and you can call it payback for taking care of me." Helena said a bit more serious.

John looked to her more softly. "You don't have to pay us back." Sherlock mouthed 'us?' with a short confused expression on why he was involved. "As a doctor I felt it was my job."

Helena sighed and leaned back getting comfortable or tried. How can Sherlock sit in this damn chair? John looked over seeing a red bill, needs to be payed urgently. Great, he shakes his head chucking it back onto the small side table. "I need to get a job." John states to himself.

"Oh, dull." Sherlock comments now folding his fingers.

Helena pondered on how they were to even get a flat if John didn't have a job. Wasn't he a doctor? She thought they got paid extremely well, Jewish most of all. But obviously John wasn't Jewish. But Sherlock seemed fine in money, hell how much does his attire cost alone?

John chewed his lip in thought and looked to the bill and back at Sherlock inwardly debating something. He leaned forward clearing his throat, "Listen, um.." He told feeling awkward on mentioning this in front of Helena. But she was homeless, so maybe she could understand. No, bad John, thats rude. "If you'd be able to lend me some.." He trailed off seeing Sherlock wasn't even paying any attention to him. Helena kept hearing blaring sirens, extremely curious to what was happening outside.

"..Sherlock, are you listening?"

"I need to go to the bank." Not even listening to John, Sherlock stood from his chair and walked past to get his coat and scarf from behind the door.

With knotted brows, he glanced over too late to even ask Sherlock what he meant. Or even discuss on Helena being left alone here. The doctor glanced between her and the stairs to where Sherlock descended.

"Can I trust you without leaving?" He asked standing up to get his coat on.

"I can barely walk, I doubt I'm going anywhere." She assured, "And I made a deal to Sherlock I won't steal anything." With a grin Helena held two fingers up like a scout, "Homeless' Honor."

John chuckled at her, "Don't strain yourself." He called going through the kitchen and down the stairs to catch up with his detective friend.

Helena sighed as she looked around hearing the door slam with a shut. She looked over to her wrapped hand and started unwrapping it, looking at her healing wound. Almost wishing she had her medical shots updated to not be confined like this. Curious, she got up with a bit of effort and started wandering around the flat.

John and Sherlock were quite the pair of flatmates. She padded into the kitchen, green shades of tile on the wall matched the one shaded green walls. The light hanging above the kitchen table was very odd she in the kitchen. It reminded her of the lights that hung above cars in garages of a mechanic's shop. While the living room look a bit old like, there was some very high-tech appliances in the kitchen. The toaster it had 4 slots which looked shiny and clean much to her surprise. Beakers that look to have been recently washed sat in the sink waiting to dry. Though John had just gotten some fresh food the, kitchen had an odd scent coming from the fridge. Finding herself a bit curious, Helena opened the fridge only to slam it shut quickly. She was sure she saw a bag of a tongue. A human tongue.

Helena Iet out a shutter, hoping to erase the image of that from her memory. Sherlock was indeed a unique man. Unique didn't even have place to the word to him, she took a mental note to look up a word for him. There was a dictionary on the shelf.

Down the hall, Helena saw two doors. She knew one was the bathroom, the other was Sherlock's room. Door shut to keep her out, the thought of it being locked got her eager to find out. Her hand gripped the door knob and twisted it, oh its unlocked. The door cracked open, brown eyes peeked in seeing no traps or alarms that she expected to go off. Opening the door wider the room became a clear view.

It was... Nothing Helena expected. The living room was left half a mess, but the room was spotlessly clean. Bed perfectly made, knick knack neatly placed on shelves, she took a double take at the sound player across the room.

"Well, hello.." She greeted, grinning ear to ear maneuvering around his large bed and to the system. "Never expected him with this beauty." Helena didn't dare touch it, as he seemed to like his room kept perfect. OCD she guessed.

Her eyes scanned around more, she just found the room so fascinating. Probably from not being in one for so long let alone a flat at all. Feeling her knees quake a bit, Helena moved to sit on his bed. "Hm, comfy." She moved up and propped herself up in the middle and sighed at the comfort. Damn, how could she leave now? Helena found herself sinking into the bed more and more until her head was now on the pillow.

"Sherlock wouldn't mind if I took a short nap.." She yawned and turned her head closing her eyes, getting comfortable with folding her arms tightly. Feeling relaxed and at ease, she took a voluntary nap in Sherlock Holmes' bed.

* * *

><p>With a new case, Sherlock was fully focused how this little bizarre crime occurred. His phone echoed out the snap shot sound effect as he took photos of the graffiti damaged painting. He turned seeing the symbols spin softly around his mind as he looked out the window see the Swiss Re Tower across from the bank building. Sherlock looked away in thought, and wandered over to the glass pulling the blinds up and dainty opened the glass gently stepping to the edge. Wind blew around roughly as the cloudy sky shined no sun upon the city. Eyes soared seeing the distance of London, the thought of Helena seeing this everyday came to mind. Sherlock looked down to see the ground hundreds of feet below, he barely saw the people from the distance. Head shot up trying to figure it out, maybe through the window to get to the room. But how to get up here? Seeing the clip of Hawkeye scaling down the building came to him, he shook it off and re entered closing the glass shut. She had bars and structures to grip onto, there's nothing to grip onto to get up here.<p>

Back on the trading floor, Sherlock slowly raises up seeing something intently looking back and forth. Nope, he move backwards as people watched this strange man dance around the room. Sherlock side stepped backwards and hide behind a few computers, then rose up again looking left and right. He repeated this method until he found himself shimming behind a desk in an office, there. Sherlock could see the upper defaced painting now. Leaving the room with a glance around, he saw the owner tag on the door- Edward Van Coon. He slid the tag out and sped off to meet John at the reception desk.

Time to find Van Coon, but first a pit stop.

* * *

><p>Shuffling and mumbles awoke the hobo as she groaned stretching her arms and legs out. They were feeling a bit better, guess she didn't have it as bad. Though if it wasn't for Dr. Watson she'd be strapped to the bed in the hospital drugged out of her mind.<p>

"Sherlock? John?" Came a soft calling voice. Sounded old, Helena got up from the bed ignoring the crease she gave to the blankets and sunk in look to the pillows.

Looking down the hall she nearly bumped into a surprised old woman. "Oh.. Hello." She greeted with a confused smile. "Friend of Sherlock's?" She guessed as Helena was in his room.

"Ah, no!" She said quickly shaking her head. "I'm just.. Dr. Watson's patient. Sorry, I fell asleep in here after they left on a case."

The smile went wider, and her eyes brightened. "Oh, that's alright dear. I'm surprised Sherlock allowed it."

She went back into the kitchen with Helena following. "I'm Helena by the way." She told with a soft smile to the elderly woman.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson the landlady." She gave a cute stern look then, "Not a housekeeper."

Helena giggled, "I understand. Were you looking for the two?"

Mrs. Hudson walked to the living room where Helena found a tray with tea and some biscuits. Looked like she made them herself and the tea was smelling good. "Sherlock moves the food around a lot so I make sure they have some tea and a snack." Helena smiled taking Sherlock's seat once more.

"Well, I'll join you for tea." She offered in her friendly tone.

The friendly woman smiled at that, guess it's been a while since she's had tea with anyone here. With the two on cases and barreling out of the flat. "Oh, that'd be lovely!" She poured the tea and handed Helena hers and offered some biscuits which she took graciously. "You sure look healthy for a patient of John's." She said to strike a conversation taking John's seat with her own cup of tea.

"That so? Guess I am getting better, a night or so ago John took me from the hospital. I'm not very fond of them." She paused to sip her tea, wow it was really good! Helena forgot how good it was. "Actually, he found me when I got sick and got me there. But seeing my distaste for it offered to take care of me here." She explained with a shrug excluding the details, she chuckled, "Sherlock hated me here."

"They are good boys they are," She assured including the odd detective. Helena bit into the biscuit. Oh god, this woman was a saint! "It takes a while for Sherlock to get to know people, though he went with John straight away." She smiled sipping more.

Not fully understating her statement, Helena just nodded. "They are a pair. Just looking around," Her eyes scanned around the room. "and they do bicker like a married couple." She laughed taking another bite.

"Oh, one your better you must simply visit. I barely get to see the boys with their work, and it's been a while since I spend time with a cute younger woman." She praised patting Helena's knee.

A blush crept onto her cheeks, her cute? She was a homely crook, what was cute about that. "..Thanks." Hiding herself behind her cup sipping more of her tea. "But sure, I'll come and visit. If you promise to make these same biscuits. Did you make them?" Helena took a bite into her third one.

"Oh yes! I always make my own food, never prepackaged." This woman was so cute, Helena could count her as her own saint when hiding or a bit of coverage depending the weather or her on the run from the cops.

A door slammed downstairs and sound of footsteps pounding up the steps gave the two women their attention to the doorway. Sherlock appeared, but no John. His eyes shot straight to Helena, "Change and come with us." Ah, John must be waiting outside.

Helena though blinked, what? "..Get changed into what?" Her answer was hesitated as Sherlock bolted up stairs but returned just as quick chucking a jacket and shirt at her. The jacket looked to be one of John's, and the shirt.. Also one of John's though it was a blue plaid button up.

"Change and meet up downstairs. Quickly." He stated turning to leave.

"Sherlock, she's ill!" Mrs. Hudson scolded getting up to her feet putting her tea down.

"Does John even know?" She asked as Mrs. Hudson tidied the cups and took the tray moving around Sherlock to go down stairs.

Sherlock sighed at her slowness to not going to change her shirt. "He will, I want you with me for something."

With a roll of her eyes, she removed her jacket roughly chucking it at his chair. She revealed to Sherlock who got a good short glimpse, that she only wore her sports bra under her jacket; no shirt. He looked away politely facing the stairs downwards. "What for? Money? I thought you guys were going to the bank?" Helena buttoned the shirt on, a tad big but fit pretty good. Then she shrugged the jacket on and took one last biscuit, "..You can turn now, Rosey Cheeks." She teased going to stand in front of him at the door way.

Sherlock gave her a glare, he was _not_ blushing. "We have a case, something I think even you'll find interesting." He started down the stairs.

"W-Wait!" She called, he looked up seeing her not budging. "..Are the police involved?"

Seeing her hesitance, and how she held her arm nervously showed how much her trust to him was on the line. He took a step up putting a hand on the railing. "No, but they might." Sherlock raised a hand to pause her protests. "I told you to change attire because if they see you dressed just like, they'll instantly connect that you are Hawkeye. They don't know your gender or face so you'll be fine."

She watched his eyes, seeing he really did want her to follow him with this case. Almost, desperation in those bright striking eyes. Helena sighed and gave her arm a rub, going down two steps to match Sherlock's gaze. "I trust you."

* * *

><p>John protested the whole cab ride to the address Sherlock informed to the cabbie. He kept going on how Helena should be resting and was still a bit warm. But she walked fine down to the cab, and was inwardly happy to be out of the flat and outside. She watched the sights near excitedly, never seeing it from this point of view.<p>

Helena saw a street as the cabbie turned and leaned over to the cabbie, "You might want to take the next left." She informed him, "Then after two streets a sharp right." He gave her a look through the rear view mirror.

"Why did you tell him directions?" John asked looking at her curiously, surely the driver knew the way.

She looked to him proudly, "Around this time the traffic down that road gets worse from lunch breaks from business offices. Would've taken ten times longer or get trapped in it. Not to mention this route is smoother and faster then where he was going." Helena explained folding her hands in her lap.

John blinked as he felt the cab indeed make the instructed turn. "..How?"

"I hang around at that time to get a view of the city life. Like clockwork, same thing everyday at the same time. If I was on foot, I'd be that the destination by now." She sighed missing her parkour action. "Which by the way, Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" He hummed acknowledging her as his eyes set sights outside.

"Why, once again for the fourth time, did you need me for?" She strained in asking again.

Sherlock only gave her a half grin. "All in good time." He told and looked back out letting the grin fall. "I trust it will indeed peek your interest."

Helena only groaned throwing her head back as the cab made the sharp right. "Better be worth it, I could be sleeping."

"Yes, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sleep in my bed or go into my room. Assuming the door being shut didn't give the hint of staying out of there." Sherlock added a bit bitterly.

John turned to look between the two, Helena was in his room? Slept in his bed? Her jaw was hinged open shocked he knew. But soon it clamped shut and she grinned. "Lock it next time." Helena retorted back, making Sherlock resist to roll his eyes.

Once they made it to the apartment building, Sherlock climbed out first, then John then Helena who John stayed by in case she needed help. At the front Sherlock pressed the buzzer marked 'Van Coon.' Helena raised a brow at the name, as Sherlock looked into the security camera with John and Helena at the side. Brows knotted at no response so he buzzed again, but still no response.

He glanced at the buzzers as John asks, "So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"May as well, he could be out somewhere for lunch or meeting." She guessed with a shrug.

Sherlock steps back looking up at the front of the building calculating the layout of the flats inside. Helena sees what he's doing and goes over, pointing at a tag. "Wintle, lives above Van Coon."

He came back over seeing the tag difference. "New label, just moved in."

John looked to Helena who matched his gaze and sighed. "I watch people, John. Don't make me explain myself constantly."

"Join the club," Sherlock mumbled pressing the buzzer.

The doctor rolled his eyes. "All right, but she could have just replaced it."

"No one ever does that." Sherlock states.

Helena nodded, "I saw her move in a few days before you found me." She confirmed.

"_**Hello?"**_ Came a woman's voice.

Sherlock turns to the camera with a smile, just as Helena ducked out from view. "Hi! Um, I love in the flat just below you." He starts with a tone a bit higher and much more friendly. "I-I don't think we've met." He smiles.

"_**No, well, uh, I just moved in."**_

The detective gives John a look that proved him and Helena right. He turns back, tone still there. "Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." He bit his lip with a grimace, Helena bites her is amusement.

"_**D'you want me to buzz you in?"**_ She asks kindly.

"Yeah," He nods and the smile drops to a straight yet curious one. "And can I use your balcony?"

"_**...What?"**_

Sherlock had succeeded in getting the three inside, though Helena was dragged up to the balcony with Sherlock while John waited outside Van Coon's room. The two go to the edge and look over, Helena grins missing a high sight of something. Helena looks down at the street a bit longer as Sherlock moved to the side seeing the balcony below them to Van Coon's. She looked over seeing Sherlock slowly climb over the edge and shakes her head.

"Amature." She insults him as she jumps off the edge with ease and lands with a roll to the bottom though stumbled a tad getting to her feet.

Sherlock lands carefully and looks to her as she grins. "Missed that?"

"God yes." She answers. He looks over the edge once more as Helena moves to the double door, one creaks open getting his attention. "...Unlocked."

The two enter gingerly walking around taking in the flat that is heavily decorated; rich. It came to Helena's mind and her sights were on prices of what she could trade in for. "Don't touch a thing." Sherlock demands slowly making her groan softly and follow him deeper into the flat.

Sherlock looks over everything going into the kitchen and checking the fridge, wine was stored inside. Oh, he could touch things, Helena thought. But, he was a detective.

"Sherlock." John called from the other side of the door, "Helena?"

Sherlock checked the bathroom seeing no one as well. Helena peeked in, "Why would his back door be unlocked but no where to be found?" She asked feeling it grow tense as they continued on.

"Sherlock, are you okay? Is Helena alright?" John called again.

"Exactly my thoughts." He responded glancing at the items on a near by shelf.

Seemed they both were too focused to even acknowledge John's calls. "Yea, any time you feel like letting me in."

The two are stopped by brown wood double doors. Sherlock turns the handles only for them to be locked. He steps back as she approached to jiggle the lock testing to see it, she nods to him. With a quick run they both shoulder charge at the door busting the lock and the doors flew open. Free to walk in, the two stop short finding what they were looking for. Van Coon dressed in a suit laying on his back on the bed, pistol on the floor. A small bullet hole was plain to see in his right temple; dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the review for the review on the latest chapter! Mrs. Hudson reminds me of my grandmother before she suffered Dementia. I am updating fairly quickly and I hope to keep this streak up! Tomorrow I get a day off and a closing shift next two days so I might throw another chapter in by tomorrow night or Monday morning. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Helena wasn't new to violence, living on the streets and fighting her way to live another day. Dead bodies, same for other reasons. But as she stood around the corner watching the photographer taking pictures of the dead man, she fought back the urge to run. Police were indeed called and John promised Lestrade still didn't know Helena was with them- or Hawkeye. Sherlock had discarded his coat and scarf by now, and as pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Forensics were elsewhere of the flat so she stuck by John and Sherlock.<p>

"Do you think he lost a lot of money?" John asks shifting foot to foot with folded arms by Sherlock. "I mean, suicide is pretty common among the City boys."

Sherlock looks to him to reply before going to the suit case by Helena. "We don't know that it _was_ suicide."

"Come on. Door was locked from the inside; you two had to climb down the balcony." John argued.

"He climbed, I jumped." Helena corrected watching Sherlock crouched down looking at the contents of the suit case. John sighed at how Helena was pushing her luck on her health.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Sherlock stood and looks to John. "Look at the case. There's something tightly packed inside it." He tells seeing John not paying much attention.

John nods, "Thanks- I'll take your word for it." and looks away again. Helena frowned, was he annoyed? Angry? She moved closer to the pair standing between them.

"Problem?" Sherlock questions with knotted brows.

He looks back, pausing before answering. "Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."

"I've done worse." Helena gives rolling on the balls of her heels as Sherlock strides to the foot of the bed. John gives an almost curious look, but refrains from questioning.

"Those symbols at the bank, why were they put there?"

"What, some sort of code?" The doctor inquires stepping to Helena.

"Obviously." He examines Van Coon's legs and shoes moving up to opening the man's jacket looking inside the pockets- nothing. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?"

Helena sighed as she still wasn't told why she followed along with them. "Maybe to scare him more?" Sherlock gave her a look making her carelessly shrug. Just the sight of the rich man and his highly attained flat made her have no sympathy to his death. Cruel, yes. Maybe he had it coming to him. Who knows.

"Well," John tried. "maybe he wasn't answering."

"Oh good. You follow." He praised checking the vest pockets- nothing.

"No." He responded bluntly earning his own look from him. Sherlock moved to examine the hands. "What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?"

John thought looking up in confusion as if the answer was on the wall. Helena noticed this, and had a few answers but those connected to this couldn't be possible.

"What about this morning? Those letters you were looking at?" Oh he did notice, John looked back seeing Sherlock moved at his face now.

"Bills."

Helena moved closer seeing Sherlock gently open Van Coon's mouth and grasped something inside. Once out, the sight of a small black origami flower is seen by the two. "Yes. He was being threatened."

John leans in as well seeing it was indeed a paper flower. Sherlock gets a plastic bag used for evidence and slides it in. "Not by the gas board." John comments.

Helena frowned hearing a male voice come closer in demands to the officers. She tugged John's sleeve as she pulled back in fear of it being Lestrade. Though the voice was higher pitch and younger, when he entered it was indeed not Lestrade. Helena was dodging bullets today. John noticed her nerves getting to her and nodded in assurance as she stayed behind him. Sherlock looked up about to remove his gloves, but saw the man.

"Ah Sargent. We haven't met." He offers his hand for a shake, though the young man's hands stayed on his hips.

"Yeah, I know who you are, and I prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He told giving Sherlock a cold look as he lowered his arm. He handed the man the bag who took it looking to the body, Sherlock eyed him.

"I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way." He questioned.

"He's busy." Wow was Helena on a roll. "_I'm_ in charge. And it's not Sargeant; it's Detective Inspector." He paused. "Dimmock."

Sherlock gives a near surprised look, this was a young man, younger than Sherlock. Hell, younger than Helena for sure. How did he rank to Detective Inspector? As Dimmock turns to leave, Sherlock shares his expression with the other two. John simply shrugs as Helena eyes the man suspiciously. The three follow him into the living room as Dimmock hands the bag to one of the forensics.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." He states proudly, Sherlock throws his head to the side at that.

"That does seem the only explanation of all fact." John agreed much to Helena's own surprise.

"Wrong." Argued Sherlock as he removed his gloves turning back around to them. "It's one _possible_ explanation and _some_ of the fact." He looked right at Dimmock a Helena came close between he and John.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." John sighed seeing where this was going to go.

"Like?"

"The wound was on the _right_ side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left handed." Sherlock moved his arm to try and point a gun at his right temple with his left hand showing the difficulty in the process. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

Dimmock's scowl was growing. "Left handed?"

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice." He gave sarcastically. "All you have to do is look around this flat." And zoom, he went! "Coffee table on the left-hand side;" He pointed two fingers towards the table. "Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: "Then to the sockets a bit farther. "Habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock asked looking to Dimmock with his voice growing with impatience.

John tiredly answers, "No, I think you've covered it."

"He doesn't looked convinced to me." Helena supported with folded arms.

"Thank you, Helena. I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list." John nodded at that not expecting Sherlock to stop. He pointed to the kitchen, "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Dimmock was now completely annoyed at this point.

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the _right_ side of his head." Helena nodded in agreement. "Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. _Only_ explanation of _all_ the facts." He snapped.

The forever silent woman now cleared her throat to speak. "Not to mention, if he had managed to shot himself, why wasn't it as messy?" John looked to her, was she on Sherlock's side? Dimmock now eyed her but she didn't notice. "When a point blank shot is made in close range, it causes a blood splatter or more damage to the head. That was a clean shot right through from a long distance. There should be blood all over his head and the bed as well. Not even a drop was made though."

"My point exactly" Sherlock nodded proudly to Helena patting her shoulder in a thanking notion. Only Dimmock still argued.

"But the gun. Why-"

Sherlock's head leaned back, God was he going to ever understand. "He was _waiting_ for the killer. He'd been threatened."

Dimmock watched Sherlock walk over for his coat and scarf. "..What?"

John explained this time to keep the detective from exploding. "Today at the bank. Sort of a warning."

Helena looked to John, "That's why you went to the bank?" John nodded with a 'I'll explain later' look. Great, more waiting.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock looped the scarf around his neck and took his coat.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questioned finding this becoming more absurd.

"Went through the open window." He stated simply shrugging the coat on and pulling his leather gloves out of his pockets.

Dimmock was down with this and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! What are the chances of _that_!?"

"Just as Helena said; the result in a close range fire would not result in his position or the result of the wound. Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Helena smiled at her statement getting recognition.

Dimmock had one final question; "But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

Sherlock's brows rose up as he slams his hand into his glove. "Good!" He told condescendingly. "You're finally getting the right questions." He then turns and struts out with a hint of anger towards this new D.I. Helena looked to Dimmock and quickly follows after him, John hesitates but soon follows the two.

Sherlock and Helena walk a head down the hall to the elevator with John behind. "Excellent." He said, making Helena look over.

"..Pardon?" She looked up with his hands at her side swaying softly.

"That comment on how it wasn't suicide." He explained shorty.

Confused at first, she then realized this was his way of thanks. Helena shrugged, "Call it common knowledge. But you're welcome. I think I rather have had dealt with Lestrade than that prick."

Sherlock grinned at her chosen word for the young Inspector. "I have to agree on that." He told softly for her ears only.

"So, where to now?" She asked making it to the elevator and pressing the down button.

"Inform my client." He answered hearing the ding and entering the elevator with her and John.

"How are you feeling?" He asks her, Helena looks to John with a half smile.

"Better, I really think I should be moving on soon." She insists folding her hands in front of her. "I'll repay you both as soon as I can."

John chuckled, "I told you, Helena. You don't have to do that."

"No, but I want to."

* * *

><p>The three took a cab to where Sherlock deduced where his client would be having a lunch meeting. The client turned out as John explained was a old school mate back in Uni with Sherlock, Sebastian Wilkes. Helena's face scrunched at the name, and the way Sherlock described him he sounded like a jerk wad.<p>

They made it to a fancy restaurant where Helena resisted the urge to steal little chips off of some tables. Finding Sebastian, Sherlock was the first to speak not seeming to care he was at a lunch in.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." He told as John and Helena stood beside him.

The man, Sebastian looked around not expecting Sherlock back like this in middle of his work- or lunch. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" He asked with a fake grin his way taking his glass of water for a sip.

Oh yeah, total Jerk Helena decided. Sherlock sighed, "I don't thing this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian," Though he really wasn't. "One of your traders -someone in your office- was killed."

The grin faded instantly, "What?"

"Van Coon." John spoe. "The police are at his flat now."

"Killed?"

Sherlock took a glass of one of the men's water, "Killed; Murdered, eliminated, assassinated, shall I go on?" He took a sip to hide the grin from the sass Helena just showed to the man.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock question slamming the glass down.

Sebastian looked around nervously pulling at the collar of his shirt. He stands and nods for them to follow to not discuss this in front of the other men. Helena, though she wouldn't care almost followed them into the men's toilets. John stopped her and said he'd inform her on it all and to wait outside. She sighed and agreed to it and waited by the door watching the people eat and enjoy meals without a care of the world.

In the said toilet's, Sebastian washed his hands as John leaned back against the sinks and Sherlock stood off to the side. "Harrow;" he started. "Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while so.."

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John told, earning a glance from Seb.

He reached for a towel drying his hands. "Lost five mill in a single morning. Made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had."

"Who'd want to kill him?"

"We all make enemies." he rebuttoned his suit blazer.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." John replied quickly.

A mobile phone's beeped echoed out. "Not usually. 'Scuse me." He fished his phone out and read the message turning to Sherlock. "..It's my Chairman. The police have been onto him." He paused and looked to Sherlock expectedly. "Apparently they're telling me it was a suicide."

Sherlock quickly retorted, "Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered."

He eyes Sherlock, almost looking disappointed. "Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that."

"Seb." He gives sternly.

"And neither does my boss." He put the phone away and gave Sherlock a crossed look. "I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." He left the loo passing Helena who looked up curiously to see him leave first.

She gets a glance from him, he pauses, and turns back. Oh God, what did he want?

"You're with them, Sherlock and all?" He asks her watching her curiously.

Helena blinked and side stepped, "In a way, yes and no. Sherlock dragged me out to this."

Seb grinned at that, "Well, hope he doesn't side track you." He turns and leave to return to his lunch meeting.

Frowning not understanding what she said, she turned and opened the door peeking into the bathroom seeing the men standing there. "I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." Came John's voice.

"They are." Helena grinned earning a sigh from the doctor.

"We're done here," Sherlock informed leaving to the door as Helena moved for him to exit. John followed as did Helena.

"So, a man was murdered, the client is a prick, now what do we do?" Helena asked exiting the building as Sherlock hailed a cab.

John turned to her, "Usually we wait to see if anything comes up. Though a clue was left, so-"

"So, Sherlock will be spending his hours to figure it out?"

"Yup." John confirmed.

Helena watched Sherlock have trouble get a cab, she went up to him. "You said before," She spoke as he sighed with no taxi stopping. "You needed me for something. So far," Helena made a face and looked up. "that 'something' hasn't arrived. Instead of making me wait, just _bloody_ tell me why you ripped me from the comfort of the flat with your nice landlady, enjoying our tea and homemade biscuits!"

John blinked not seeing her anger show for a good while, guess this was building up. Sherlock sighed looking up at the evening sky for a moment before looking down to her. "I wanted your professional opinion." He took his mobile phone and pulled a photo of the defaced painting up showing Helena. "This was floor on the high floor of the bank office."

"..What building?" She asked looking over the picture before he took the phone back.

"Tower 42."

Helena starred off, mapping out the lay out of the building, it was a across from Swiss Towers. Second tallest skyscraper in London, she's never attempted to climb that though. Oh, would she wish to. But the stricture and built gives her no chance of griping onto anything. It's all glass, only least possible way is the shimmy up between two pillars, hands and feet splayed on the sides. Even then the possibility of getting anywhere to the fifth floor would be too risky. she shook her head, impossible and the person would be spotted by the time they got to the second floor; day or night.

John and Sherlock watched, it reminded John of seeing Sherlock when in his Mind Palace. He guessed she was in her own, Sherlock waited patiently for her resulting answer. Soon, she snapped to them.

"Impossible for anyone even me to climb up that building without any support or equipment. Between each pillar looks to be narrow enough to climb up like out of a crevasse or a chasm going upwards." Helena put her hands out to the side and spread her legs showing for example. "Even if they could, they'd be noticed right away and cause a scene much like my own displays. It's the second tallest tower, impossible for anyone to just go up and climb down with ease."

John blinked as Sherlock smirked. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Soon the awaited taxi arrived, back to Baker Street.

* * *

><p>That night, Helena spend another night in case another fever broke out, by John's orders. Sherlock had printed the photos he took at the bank and taped them onto the mirror above the mantel. The healing criminal was on the floor feeling her legs were sore from her adventure with the boys, so she sat there spreading the book where she left off. Her jacket back on and returned the shirt and jacket to John. Dr. Watson was on his laptop typing away with a hopeful look in his eyes.<p>

"Something to look forward to, Dr. Watson?" Helena asked glancing to him.

He looked up, "Sort of. Found a clinic I can possibly work at."

Helena perked up putting the book down to her knees. "Of course you can, you're a doctor."

"Military Doctor." Sherlock corrected.

She looked to Sherlock then to John. " ..Ohh," Helena nodded with understanding, she closed her book and stretched her legs out on the floor. "I know some people who came back, like this one engineer who was denied a job because he was in Iraq. If they even question about you being in the military, tell them you carry a gun." She threw a smile as John chuckled.

"Jobs are dull." Sherlock stated once more.

Helena just let a small laugh out as John signed getting to his feet. "Thanks, Helena." He gave closing his laptop, no doubt planning to take it up to his room. "Get some sleep." John suggested going up the stairs to bed.

Helena soon got up with a small grunt and sliding the book back into its place on the shelf. Sherlock looked between the pictured standing in front of them, now and again his fingers pointed around directing things in his mind. Helena perched onto the couch watching him wit tired interest. Her eyes darted to the stairs, she really couldn't wait to leave.

"No one will stop you." She turned to Sherlock who still stared at the photos, but Helena knew he peeked at her from the mirror. "Leaving that is."

"..What would John do if he found me gone the next morning?" She asked hugging her knees with her chin on them.

"Scold me for not stopping you as you escape back to the life on the streets." Sherlock gave nodding his head at the window. "Go on about how you're not fit to be out again, when clearly you are perfectly fine to be on your own and being Robin Hood of the homeless."

She grinned, always hearing that term towards her. She likes Hawkeye better. "And you?" Helena questioned as his eyes shifted to her form in the reflection. "You'd be glad a filthy ill hobo will be off your couch and none of your concern, yeah?"

Sherlock blinked and turned to her, almost contemplating his thoughts on her question. First meeting she stole his possessions causing a chase between the two to get them back. Second encounter was at the hospital where John 'forced' to have her stay there so he can treat her properly with the help of her phobia. Now he even asked her opinion for this case on how the defaced painting and the murder was committed. Did he want her to go for getting out of her hair or stay for the case?

"Highly." He answered and focused back onto the photos.

Helena smirked and shook her head taking a blanket and putting it around her shoulders. Her eyes shot outside the window hearing cars beep and people passing by chatter. The life of the city at night she loved to watch, if only she had a better view.

"You'll see me around for sure. Besides," Her eyes shot to him as she stood, letting the blanket fall to the couch. Her feet lead her to him standing beside him to see the photos. "you'll know where to find me, I'll put a good word in around the streets."

Sherlock glanced down to her, he watched her turn and walked past the kitchen and into Sherlock's open bedroom. He stared a bit longer, and then back to the wall. Even if he tried to stop her now, she would be gone out his window by then. Hawkeye was back and free once more.

* * *

><p>The next morning shined.. well, semi shined. It was sunnier than the day before that was for sure. Though it shined for someone, not yet hoping on roofs but now was just strolling over them watching people venture around. Hawkeye smiled seeing the life of the city, she was welcomed back the night before in open arms to her homeless friends. They were doing good during her leave, much to her relief. Right now, Hawkeye was simply relaxing in the warm sun that rarely showed itself.<p>

Thing was, something bothered her in the back of her mind. Those two days at 221b Baker Street was new to her; warmth, comfort, care, company. It's been so long since she's had those. Sure those she helped offered it back, but she said they needed it more than her. Hawkeye did assure if Sherlock looked for her, she was to be informed. The case he was currently on got her mind on that. Climbing up to murder, so she wasn't the only daredevil in the city. And his methods were far worse than her own, she had limits but she also wasn't a murderer.

Because Lestrade was busy, Hawkeye decided to take the chance to get some cash checked in. Her stomach growled, "..Hungry." She commented and looked down the street. Not far, Hawkeye had gone enroute to her source of food.

* * *

><p>It was silent once more at 221b. Sherlock was alone once more sitting on one of the dining chairs staring at the photos. Fingers steepled under his chin as variant symbols of different languages faded around in his mind. After Helena's leave, Sherlock looked up on anything of recent murders. It wasn't until dawn he found a news report of one on Online News. 'Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police' with a photo of the recent victim. Which proved he was right that Van Coon's death was indeed murder, not suicide.<p>

John returned from his interview which he thought went rather well. Entering the living room, he found Sherlock but no Helena. He guessed she was in the bathroom or down with Mrs. Hudson as he did hear her talking. Tossing his coat onto his chair, Sherlock asked,

"I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'." He stated not looking towards him.

The doctor looked around, did he mean Helena? "What? When?"

"'Bout an hour ago."

John glanced around again picking up the pen. "To Helena?"

"You of course."

A sigh escaped , "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." John tossed it at Sherlock looking to the wall, Sherlock catches it in _perfect_ ease without looking himself. He moved himself closer seeing the photos.

"Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?" Sherlock asks.

"It's great. She's great." John slipped up.

Sherlock's eyes darted to the doctor. "Who?"

He turns around to him. "The job."

"'She'?"

Realizing his mistake, he slowly corrects. "...It."

Sherlock eyes him a moment, he brought one woman home. He hoped not to have another here again. "Here, have a look." Nodding his head to the laptop beside him folding his fingers.

John walke past Sherlock's view and leaned on the desk to read the article. 'An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in.' Brows knotted as John read back the sentence to himself. "The intruder who can walk through walls."

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock explained.

Straightening up, he looked to his flatmate. "God. You think..?"

"He's killed another one." Sherlock confirmed narrowing his eyes and flattening his hands to a prayer again.

John sighed and moved past him to the kitchen. "What did Helena think on it? Any answers from her opinion?"

Sherlock got up and picked his scarf up looping it around his neck. "We'll ask after seeing the crime scene. First, to New Scotland Yard which she will refuse to follow us to." He threw his coat on and bounded down the stairs. John soon followed putting his coat back on, not even noticing Helena wasn't even in the flat since last night. Nor did Sherlock find the purpose to tell him, as he'd find out himself soon enough.

After convincing Dimmock with the news report that it was connected to the first killing, Sherlock and John got at most five minutes in Lukis' flat with Dimmock as well. Sherlock was at first going to bring Helena, but didn't have time to find her and if John discovered then the investigation would've been held off more. They walked through the flat, Sherlock inspecting everything with a two second glance. First thought coming to mind, he struts to the window and looked through the curtains seeing the buildings and ground. A smirk played on his lips at this sight.

"Four floors up. _That's _why they think they're safe." He turns walking over looking around some more. "Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable. They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." Sherlock turned back to the stairs spotting exactly what he was looking for.

"I don't understand." Dimmock admits as Sherlock walks past him.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock hopped up on a stool to get to the sky light.

"What are you doing?" John joins the two as Dimmock questions the detective's methods.

"He clings to the walls like an insect." He unhooked the latch and snapped the window upwards opening it. "That's how he got in."

"What!?" Dimmock was not following what so ever. Where was this man going with these random facts?

Sherlock turns to him. "Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."

Dimmock rolled his eyes. "You're not serious! Like Spiderman?"

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."

Dimmock shook his head at Sherlock from his rant of an 'explanation', laughing softly in disbelief. "Oh ho-hold on!" Though he continued.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Sherlock steps down and gives another look around. "We have to find out what connects the two." Looking down at the stairs, he skipped down and picked up a book from the West Kensington Library. Hoping to find answers, Sherlock speeds down the stairs.

Above, Dimmock thinks on Sherlock's words as John darts to the top of the steps. "Climbs like a spider…" John paused looking to the Inspector. He nods to himself, and looks to John. "Heard about that incident last week? The man who was on top of Shard Towers?"

The doctor blinked, "Um, yeah." Dimmock grinned but John felt his heart sink. "..Y-You think that sh- he did this? Killed those men?"

"Who else publicly climbs buildings and escapes without a trace?" Dimmock was convinced, but John was worried. "It has to be."

He trailed down meeting Sherlock outside getting in a cab, quickly following after. "West Kensington Library." Sherlock informed the cabbie.

Once the car was in motion John turned to him. "Sherlock, Dimmock thinks he know who did it."

"That so? Is it me?" Sherlock questioned boredly looking out the window.

John hesitated, "No, um, he thinks it's.. It's Helena, or Hawkeye I guess."

The consulting detective sunk the words in, chewing his lip in thought. It can be a possibility, but he talked with her and she had an alibi for Van Coon's death. Not to mention Helena explained that she can't do what Sherlock says this killer is doing. Her style of climbing was different to this one, he knew she wasn't a suspect.

"..He might try to hunt her down." He said worriedly.

Sherlock scoffed, "What makes him think he can catch her. Lestrade can't even keep track fo her for more than three minutes."

"Well, all we have to do is keep her safe at the flat." John said looked out his window.

"..She's not there." Sherlock stated.

John bit his lip and looked over, what did he just say. "Sorry, what?"

The tall male turned to his short blond friend. "I said, 'she's not there'." he stated slowly. "She left last night."

Blinking in shock, he adjusted his seat looking to the side then back at him. "And you never thought to tell me? Did you stop her, even try to keep her there. You have to warn her, somehow, we can keep her safe at Baker Street-"

"She's not meant to stay, John." Sherlock told sternly giving John a low stare. "Before you start stating that I didn't want her around, it's not. She needed to be out there, that's why I brought her with us. To get her some air and to assure she wasn't locked away like you intended. Helena was bound to leave soon, she'll be fine, John."

The doctor breathed through his nose and looked out the window, still concerned for her. "Better be right about this one." He told.

Sherlock turned back out the window. He felt sweat built in his hands so he removed his gloved and folded a fist at his mouth rubbing his hands together. Where was Helena right now?

* * *

><p>Sitting on the edge of a Chinese laundromat, Hawkeye nibbled on a bag of fried noodles she snagged from a opencart. When John ordered chinese her first night there, they had an extra bag of fried noodles. They were so crunchy and crispy, Helena grinned enjoying her little snack.<p>

"Hawkeye?" She perked and looked over, who was that? The latter clunked as Trevor climbed over the step grinning at her. "There you are."

She extended her arms out in a welcoming notion. "Here I am! Please, come into my lovely abode. Tea? Crumpets?" Helena joked faking a cockney accent, and offered her bag to him.

Trevor chuckled and moved to sit beside her, but kept his distance from the ledge. "Thank you, m'lady." He gave with a posh accent and took a few munching on them.

The two sat in silence watching the people below them. Trevor was the same who had mouthed off Sherlock when asking about Helena a few days ago. His old hockey beanie keeping his shaggy dark hair in place, hazel eyes scanned about watching people leave and enter shops. Once done he wiped his hands letting crumbs fall off his sports jacket and thick dark worn jeans.

"So, done any rounds?" He asked wiping hands over his mouth on any stray crumbs.

"No, just relaxing for the day. Tomorrow for sure, still stiff." Helena excused kicking her legs against the building.

Trevor cleared his throat playing with the strings of his jacket. "So, I tried my best on.." He nodded to her. "y'know, taking care of others."

Helena groaned mid chewing leaning her head back. "Don't tell me you've been trying my methods." She side glanced him with a suspicious look. "You're not exactly the, what's the word? Fastest man around, Trev."

He chuckled shoving her shoulder, "C'mon! I ain't that bad! I wasn't doing that, parkour stuff. I tried to get some dough."

A stern look came to her, she shook her head now looked aggravated. "Trevor, I told you before not to. Only I do it for you guys."

"Well, after being tackled by a large fat cop almost flattened into the ground. I might take the word on it. Helena chuckled at that softly.

"Sharp turns and put speed into your feet not all of your legs." She instructed, then pointed a finger at him. "Still, shouldn't have done it.

Trevor rolled his eyes and turned to her sitting cross legged. "But someone had to! You know I always say I'll take over when anything happens to you!"

"And this 'anything' is what, Trevor?" Helena gave turning to him. "Fall to my death?"

"No."

"Caught by police?"

"No, it-"

"Then what? What's the worst that can happen?"

"You leaving us!" Trevor barked silencing her.

Helena frowned with low confused brows. "..Leave? What do you mean leave, I'll never leave."

Trevor gave a glare, "Well you did! Two days you were gone, rumors were spreading the police finally caught you, but was sure it wasn't true. I had faith you can outrun them any day. When that Holmes bloke came around asking about you, 'assuring' us you were in safe and all. But that could've met anything! Then he has the _gall_ to ask what your 'motives' were! The great, Sherlock Holmes as everyone calls him. He's going to hand you to the coppers, I just know it."

"No he won't!" She yelled back. "We made a deal; I don't steal from him or his doctor -who by the way made sure I recovered properly- and he doesn't report me to the authorities."

Almost with disbelief, Trevor scoffed. "You've become domesticated."

Helena stared at him for a good long while with a thin frown. With silence, she rolled her plastic bag up and shoved it into Trevor's hands. Getting to her feet she walked calmly to the later and started moving onto it to slide down. Trevor watched her and quickly got to his feet.

"Finish the rest, enjoy. Don't want my domesticate to be contagious." She spat lowly and slid down the ladder.

"H-Hawkeye!" He called rushing to the ladder only to see her already merging out with the crowd. Trevor groaned and looked down at the bag, with anger he rose it up high to chuck it off. Hesitating, and lowering it slowly, he opens the back and gently eats the rest. She must have gone through some trouble to getting it. And wasting food was something he couldn't afford to do.

* * *

><p>"Damn Trevor.." <strong>Clink!<strong> "'Domesticated', my arse!" **Clink! Clink! **There were other ways to vent out her anger, this one one of them. Helena chucked another stone at the smoke pipes across the building. Each hit with more force than the one before.

She released a sigh and shook her head hugging her knees looking down with a grimace of sadness. "I'm a tramp." She states softly to herself. "How can I ever become domesticated? I didn't even like being there." Helena threw her hood over her head with a sigh.

"..Been in that flat for at least three days." Echoed out a low voice down below.

"Could've gone on holiday." Excused a softer voice.

"..D'you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Asked the low voice.

Helena looked up, she knew those voices. She got to her feet and climbed over to the fire escape and looked down. "Well, we cross paths again." She called down leaning on the metal railing on the side. "What are you cats doing on this side of town?"

"Hawkeye, perfect timing." Sherlock called stepping back ready to jump for the ladder.

"Thank God, you're alright." John sighed as Sherlock jumped at the ladder with ease of his height, yanking it down. He climbed up only to have the ladder yank back up before John could follow.

"Of course I'm alright. Just stopped around here to see what I can snag before taking a break." She assured looking to Sherlock who stood above her. "How's the case?"

"Gleaming, we're just checking this flat, no one's been there in three days. Seen anyone inside?"

Hawkeye shrugged, "I've gotten here myself a few minutes ago. I assumed the person who lives here went out, but it's dangerous to leave your window open around this area."

Sherlock grinned, "Exactly what I thought. Let's check inside." He gave as the two headed to the back of the flat to climb through the window.

"Sherlock!" John called, not getting a chance to talk to her himself. "Hawkeye!" With an exasperated sigh, the doctor runs out to the front of the building

Helena climbs through with his of her small figure and steps away for Sherlock to get in. He gets through but the clink of a vase near by tips over, he cries out in muffled alarm catching it. She looked back seeing his near mistake but kneels down, feeling the wet carpet. There was water in there, but not enough to cause a wet spot such as this.

"Someone else has been here." Sherlock calls out the window to John, putting the vase back on the table and looked around. "Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase, just like I did."

Helena gets to her feet and gently pokes around as Sherlock investigates the dryer checking the smell before tossing it back in. He feels for a tea towel hanging near by, the sound of a ringing indicated John was out front now.

"D'you think maybe you could let me in this time?" He called pressing the doorbell again.

Sherlock moves onward as Helena opens the fridge, Sherlock reaches in taking the milk carton taking the lid off, he looks inside and gives a small sniff.

"Could you both _not _keep doing this to me?" John calls through the letterbox.

"Almost bad." he tells her, she nods as he puts the lid back on and the milk back in the fridge shutting the door. "We're not the first." He states and straightens up.

"What!?" Yells John who was holding the letter box to hear better or to have him hear them better.

"Somebody's been in here before us!" Helena barks out to John, as they heard him clearly but not him hearing them.

"_What_ are you saying?" She couldn't tell if that question was that he didn't hear or understand. Maybe both.

Sherlock took out his magnifier looking at scuff in the rug that showed the intruder where they stood. "Size eight feet." Helena moved the beads in the doorway for him as he passed through. "Small, but… athletic." He moved, she put her feet beside it to compare, near the same size but only because she wore size eight males when she was a size nine in a half female. Sherlock took note and looked up at a photo in a frame with hand print on it.

Outside John walked around, sighing. "I'm wasting my breath." He gave and tried the doorbell again.

The two moved, as he took the frame examining it. "Small, strong hands."

Helena looked up as he put it back down. "The man who climbs the walls, you think?"

"Our acrobat." He closed the magnifier and slid it back into his pocket. He looks around with a frown though. "But why didn't he close the window when he left..?"

The crook then shot around. "Sherlock, one never leaves a window open when invading a home..." She stated slowly, eyes shooting around.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this realization. "Oh, stupid. _Stupid._ Obvious… He's still here." He spotted a free-standing folding screen, someone could hide behind there. Helena moved to the kitchen looking into the bedroom in case he was hiding there too.

She peeked into the room eyes scanning any indication he was here. Without any warning something was kicked into her back throwing her to the floor. She heard thuds of steps fading to Sherlock in the other room, the intruder! "Shit!" She cused giving a cough as the wind was knocked out of her and for sure a huge bruise would appear later on her back. She heard the groans and struggling thuds of the two in the other room.

"John! Helena!" He cried sounding like his was struggling to speak. "Helena!"

Outside, John was none the wiser to the attack as he shook his head in frustration. "No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work with the 'right' people because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTELLECT!" He shouted through the letterbox angrily.

She finally got to her feet wincing at her back and stumbled into the kitchen seeing Sherlock being strangled by the intruder. "Like to kick, huh?" She rushed over and swung her leg right into the man's neck knocking him off of Sherlock.

The detective was on the floor free but just about lost consciousness. The attacked stood seeing Helena being a struggle as she held her fists up ready to fight back. Her eyes shot to Sherlock's limp form for a split second as he need to get the cloth off from around his neck. Sherlock suddenly started gasping and coughing getting Helena's attention, the assailant used the advantage to escape through the window.

"Damnit.." She muttered but knelt to the gasping detective and removed the cloth off his neck. "Sherlock- Sherlock breath!"

He shoots up coughing heavily, she moves as he gets to his hands and knees breathing as much as he good for his lungs and brain. Helena sighed glad she didn't have to do mouth-to-mouth. "T-Thanks.." He coughs out getting to his knees sitting up and digging through his pocket.

"No trouble.." She winces and sees a black origami that was shoved into his pocket. Curious, Helena checked her own pockets, pulling out a identical flower. The two shared a glance, panting though Sherlock breathed less even.

Sherlock got to his feet stumbling a bit, Helena quickly stood helping him balance though careful of her back. "Let's John, that acrobat is long gone now." She tells. He nods in agreement and they leave to meet with him.

John checked his watch one last time before thinking of taking his leave. The door then opened and he gives an 'oh' as the two finally emerge from the building. Sherlock gave his statement in a croaky tone and with a bit of struggle.

"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago." He trailed off giving a small clear to his throat.

John watched as Helena shimmied back the tall man and leaned on the wall sighing. "Somebody?" He questioned.

Sherlock nodded, "Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her."

Helena looked down and noticed a letter, she bent down picking it up as Sherlock still caught his breath. "But how, exactly?" John asks.

She stands showing Sherlock the letter, he takes it reading the back of it. 'Soo lin please ring me tell me you're okay Andy' He unfolds it reading the front of it finding a print at the bottom right corner; National Antiquities Museum. Sherlock nods to the envelope, "Maybe we'll start with this."

He walks out, Helena shut the door and walks with them. John looks over, "You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?"

Sherlock shakes it off giving a hard cough, "I'm fine." Helena shook her head at him with a grin, still not telling John anything.

* * *

><p>From an alleyway, Trevor saw his friend go walking with that Holmes bloke and a short blond man. He glared the detective as he looked down to speak with her then she looked to John talking to him. The tall man called for a cab, Trevor peeked out more expecting her to leave at that point. But instead, she climbed in with the two as the taxi drove off.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the love guys! This chapter I really am glad I got in before this week started. I got morning hours at work this week, and will be spending my free time helping my dad with him recovering from surgery and sleeping as I am a insomniac and such. So, until my hours shift about, the next chapter will slowly be built. I hope this one wasn't rushed and you guys enjoy! Remember to leave a review!**

* * *

><p>"You really think that?" Asked Lestrade as looked through papers spread over his desk. He looked stressed rubbing his forehead glancing up at the man on the other side of the room.<p>

It has to be him. You said so yourself you've been chasing him for years and never can figure out where or how he escapes." Dimmock tried to reason leaning on the desk with his hands.

Lestrade eyed him, "Did Sherlock actually say so himself it was him?"

Dimmock nodded in a lie. "He said it was someone who can climb walls. Who else can do it?"

Greg leaned back and sighed, "If Sherlock thinks so, then fine. You can find him around the roof of buildings. But you'll never catch him."

"I will catch him." Dimmock gave with confidence and left the room to start the search.

Lestrade sighed and turned in his chair running a hand down his face. He looked out the evening sky, chewing his lip thinking of the information Dimmock had given. Greg wasn't on this case, but still wanted to know with Sherlock involved. John of course by Sherlock's side, but Dimmock told a woman was with him too. She supported Sherlock's opinion of it being murder, but didn't see her at the second crime scene. The way he described her, it wasn't Molly, and the name was Helena. Lestrade didn't know the person, maybe a new colleague, who knows.

He pulled his phone out opening his message box reading a text he got from Sherlock about a week ago; 'Hawkeye -SH'. It was the night of the media, and Lestrade knowing how Sherlock can be, had to have meant that damned man he can never catch.

"Hawkeye.." He muttered rubbed his upper lip before shaking his head. Lestrade turned to his desk to continue his stress filled work.

* * *

><p>Outside on the steps of the museum, Helena watched the pigeons stagger about for droppings of foods and scraps of sorts. She chuckled, feeling she could relate to the creatures. Her hood sat over her head watching as the sun was setting. Helena instead of splitting paths from the men, she followed the here. John said when they come back out he had something to say to her, but Sherlock insisted they hurry inside before he could explain what.<p>

Back of her mind said she could be out there robbing for money and getting cash, but her bod disobeyed and stayed put on the steps. Sighing she started down at the cement and her boots letting her mind faze out to daydream.

"Excuse me," A voice came, Helena looked up seeing a man. "Do you need help?"

The girl only waved him off with a smile. "Oh no, waiting for someone inside." She pointed her thumb to the building behind her.

The man nodded and walked off. Helena watched him as he was about to cross the street, until two officers came over to him. Oh, was he in trouble? They had a piece of paper that looked like a photo, pointing at it. The man looked at it and nodded, her heart skipped when he pointed at her. Wait, _her_!? The officers followed his gaze, Helena saw the photo; it was of her on Shard Tower from a week ago.

Hawkeye jumped to her feet seeing the men dart at her, she instantly ran into the building, maybe she can lose them there. The crook can hear the officers call her to stop and all that. She refuses, question was how did they get a photo of her? Or even start searching for her? Hawkeye hasn't done any crimes in over a week or so, she should be in the clear. Something didn't add up.

Running up the stairs dodging people, she ran to the side jumping onto the railing and pulled herself up onto the second floor. She snickered and caught sight of Sherlock and John, she was close. Before she could call them, a heavy weight tackled her down to the tile floor holding her down. "OWW! Get off me!" She demanded struggling under the hold of the large security man.

Sherlock and John turned seeing Helena being held down by the man as they were making their leave. Seeing the struggle and hearing her yell, they knew it was her and ran over. Two officers finally caught up as they held her down as well near crushing her.

"H-Hey! That's our friend!" John barked trying to get them off him.

One of the officer looked up showing the photo. "You're friends with Hawkeye, the pickpocket crook and man who is accused of the two murders of Edward Van Coon and Brian Lukis?"

"What!? You think-"

"I'd like to point out, that this 'man' is a woman." Sherlock corrected as they held her up hands behind her back. He reached over tossing the head off her head as she flung her face to the side moving hair from her sight. "Second, she is not the one who committed those murders."

"I don't murder, I just rob jerks of valuable trinkets! What would I gain from murdering!?" Helena yelled still struggling in the large man's grip.

The other officer took out a pair of handcuffs, while the first one denied these claims. "Detective Inspector ordered we arrest the criminal named Hawkeye who is a suspect in these crimes. He said Sherlock Holmes claims the murder to be someone who can scale and enter buildings and leave without a trace. So far, the public has seen you do it with video proof on the web."

All eyes shot to the tall man. "Sherlock.." John muttered, "Jesus!" He spat shaking his head.

Sherlock's brows knotted, he did say that yes. Sure his claims were close to Helena's work but… He never meant it to target her. He looked between John and the officer. "Impossible, she was with us during the first murder."

"Was she with you during this whole case?" He asked as his partner had a hard time getting the cuffs on her wrists with her resistance.

The consulting detective paused in the defense, tracing back at times she wasn't with them. "No, she wasn't… Hel-Hawkeye was not with us morning of the second murder. We only just ran into her an hour ago in Chinatown."

"What was she doing there?"

John answered this time. "We were looking for someone involved in the case, but they weren't home. The back window was open she was there."

"Uh-huh, no doubt ready to commit a third." He turned as Hawkeye got free of the grip and grabbed her in time from getting away. "I think we can take her to Dimmock for questing."

Sherlock looked to Helena who stared- no glared him. She struggled harder no doubt to want to tackle the tall man. "You sold me out! That's why you wanted me around this case and why you found me! To get my caught!"

"No, I-" Sherlock tried to reason.

"Don't even talk to me! I never should've trusted you!" She screamed and felt the cuffs click onto her wrists. Helena was turned roughly being dragged away from the shocked men. "I'll never trust anyone ever again! Sherlock Holmes lied to me! I never want to see your face again!"

Watching her being taken away, and hearing her echoes of screaming protests caught a lot of people's attention. John sighed heavily and glared his flatmate. "We should've warned her. If we had, she wouldn't-"

"Our job here is done." He stated blinked a few times and walking slowly to the exit. John followed, "She'll be taken in for questioning, they don't have full proof she was the one who did it."

"But Dimmock thinks so." John argued as they trotted gently down the stairs.

"Since when has he been right?" Sherlock retorted.

At the front, police lights could be seen as two cars parked outside the dark roadway. The two saw Dimmock exit a car and grin seeing Helena, but frowned when seeing it was a woman. He talked to the officer, who nodded in confirming it was Hawkeye. He nodded and ordered him to shove her in the back. At first she struggled about getting shoved in, but soon was forced inside. Her eyes looked up seeing the two men she assumed she could trust, staring straight at Sherlock. Before driving off, Helena's breathing got heavier as she started hyperventilating in the back of the car and hung her head lowly.

* * *

><p>Breathing as thickly as she ever had, arms still cuffed behind her back and sitting in a small white soundproof room. Her head rested back against the chair with closed eyes. She tried to imagine herself somewhere else, hands being cuffed didn't help causing her hands to shake. Helena tried to think of the sights of London, and picture herself perched on top of a high building with the wind blowing and sounds of the life ringing her ears.<p>

Outside the room, Dimmock watched her with folded arms. He shook his head, not expecting Hawkeye to be a female. But still, he caught her; a killer and robber. Lestrade thought he couldn't do it, he grinned at his triumph.

Deciding she waited enough, Dimmocked moved to the door entering it quietly. "Enjoying yourself?" He asks hands in his pocket.

Taking a deep breath, Helena paused. He rose a brow as she didn't respond, but her answer came when she kicked the table roughly knocking it over on it's side. A loud clanking and thunking echoed out in the room. Her head came down and opened eyes met his. Still she didn't speak, eyes bore into his with a death glare.

"Maybe more time is needed? We can keep you here until you start speaking, all night and into morning." He told acting as if he wasn't affected by the random act.

"Let. Me. Go." She demanded lowly and leaned forward letting her hair fall over her shoulders.

"You're a suspect, and have a past of committed pickpocketing and resisting arrest from police." He informed.

"You don't understand." Helena stood taking a step forward. "How could I have murdered Van Coon when I was too ill to even walk?"

"Ill of what?"

"Tetanus." Her breathing started to become uneven again. "If you check t-the hospital I-I was checked in they'll say.. t-the same thing."

"I'll consider it." Dimmock earning an eye roll from her as she started pacing in a slow circle of the chair. Watching her like a lion in a catch, that's what she was like currently. He removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms with a curious look. "Why is Lestrade so obsessed with arresting you."

"Got me, I just do it for the feeling." Dimmock frowned, Helena walked over getting close in his face. "Don't you have something you love, like this job? The tense feeling of catching a criminal with the possibility of losing your life or endangering others? Killers and murderers on the loose, and knowing you live with them in the same city, just waiting to strike? Isn't that why you joined the force?" He stepped back a bit at her intense low words.

"..I climb, and jump, and run, and escape because I love being free of the world. The beautiful sights I can see! I see things that no one else can; in my mind is the entire map of London and I can route out escapes and short cuts around the city within seconds before you even blink. I already know four escape routes in this damned cage." Helena stepped back. "That's why I do it."

Silent, he blinked not expecting such an answer. He turned and walked towards the door, glancing once more as he found her still glaring her. Dimmock opened the door and left her alone in the room, a soft click of the lock echoed. Helena stared and looked to the mirror she knew was a two way for him to see her. She sat back onto the chair leaning forward, moving her wrists around. Clinking could he heard, slamming the chain of the cuffs on the back of the chair soon- **clank! **Now with a broken chain, Helena brought her arms forward sighing, at least that feeling was gone but she was still locked in. Her eyes locked onto the glass, she gripped the chair tightly and with all her might chucked it at the mirror causing a huge crack in it but splitting the chair apart from the force of the throw.

* * *

><p>It had been 24 hours since they last saw Helena. John but all concerned, with cleithrophobia who knows how she was doing locked up at New Scotland Yard. Sherlock, concern wasn't part of him, but John knew he was affected by her words. With her as a suspect, it made him more determined to prove her innocence. At least that's what John saw.<p>

Raz found the two after Helena's arrest at the museum and lead them to the South Bank State Park. The place was covered in graffiti with skateboarding and biking teens doing little to big stunts. Raz showed the yellow spray paint used on the wall forming Chinese symbols. Raz confirmed to Sherlock that the paint was the exact same, he and John went in search for more evidence of the paint.

They both split up to find anything quicker. Sherlock searched along a railway finding an abandoned paint can. He squatting down picking it up, torch pointed at the nozzle as he ran a thumb over the yellow paint on it. Giving a quick sniff, he looked up and around; he was getting close.

John searched through an underpass with lower luck on anything. He saw nothing but wall covered posters, none of the graffiti matching the color. Sherlock passed by a wall also covered in posters, but he stops as one grabs his attention. He quickly reads the corner of it and rips it off taking it with him as he continues. John moved to the railways shining his torch on the ground below him. He spots some yellow specks that grow to splashes, finding a wall he flashes the light on it. Mouth opens in surprised as he steps back for a better look, John had found the entire wall covered in yellow Chinese symbols.

A lead, finally something! John called Sherlock but he never answered so he ran off to find him. The consulting detective was found looking at a parking freight container. "Answer your phone! I've been calling you!" He calls getting Sherlock's attention. "I've found it." Sherlock follows as he leads him back to the wall.

But low and behold, once they get there, the wall is covered all black. As if nothing was there at all. "It's been painted over!" John goes over staring in disbelief as Sherlock shines his light around the area. "I don't understand. It-it was here…" He steps back shaking his head. "..ten minutes ago. I _saw_ it. A whole load of graffiti!"

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock determined and rushed to John grabbing the sides of his head.

John frowned at him with knotted brows. "Hey, Sherlock! What are you doing?"

"Shh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." His hands lower gripping his forearms.

"No, what? Why? Why?" Next thing he knows, Sherlock starts to slowly spinning him on the spot. "What are you doing!?"

"I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try and picture what you saw. Can you picture it?" Sherlock explains roughly.

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!" John exasperates feeling slightly dizzy.

"How _much_ can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry-"

The two still span as Sherlock looked at him with thick words. "Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate. It all depends on her!"

John blinked but answered, "Yeah, well, don't worry- I remember all of it."

Sherlock gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yeah, well at least I _would_..." John got out of his grip, "..if I can get to my pockets!" And dug for his phone in his coat pocket. "I took a photograph."

Sherlock breaths a bit calming down as John gets the photo on his phone. He shows the picture seeing the symbols at last. Giving Sherlock the phone, John sighs turning away for a moment as he eyes the detective. He doesn't question the sudden outburst about 'her'.

Without any sleep, next morning rolled in for Sherlock and John. Sherlock was wide awake staring at the photos taped to the wall above the mantel. Now the one of the library and the wall joined the painting. John sat half asleep at the dining table head in hand looking dreadfully dead tired. Sherlock had many questions that John was too tired to even respond to. Denied sleep the, Sherlock took a few of the photos and ran off with John straggling behind. He wondered if Helena got as much sleep as they did.

* * *

><p>"Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals." Sherlock explained deeply for Andy to understand.<p>

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger and a friend of ours is labeled as a suspect for those murders." John added. "Now, that cipher- it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

Andy nodded, "Look, I've tried everywhere; um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone." He stammered worried for her as Sherlock turned his head with a sigh, he spotted something. "I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

Sherlock moved to the pots displayed in the class case beside them. John noticed his gaze towards something else. "What are you looking at?"

He points to the case walking towards it. "Tell me more about those teapots."

John and Andy approach as he explains, "Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay will start t crumble. Apparently you just have to keep making tea in them."

Bending down, Sherlock looked more closely at the shelf. "Yesterday, only one of those pots were shining." He pauses, eyes shooting to the other pot. "Now there are two."

That night, the museum had a small intruder. No one threatening or such, their main focus was the pots as delicate small hands took one of the non-shined pots and to the back. Soo Lin Yao was there, making tea in the pots the same way she always had. She poured the pot and gently rose it up stirring the contents inside. Highly focused on her work, she didn't notice a tall pale figure stand beside her.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" She gasped turning accidently dropping the pot, but thankfully Sherlock caught it. He looked up to her, "Centuries old. Don't wanna break that." He straightens up handing the ancient object back to her and flicked the switch on the desk. The light brightened their faces as he half smiles at her, finally found her. "Hello."

* * *

><p>Twenty-four hours had passed since Helena was locked at Scotland Yard for her suspected crimes of murder. Dimmock had her checked out, but she became less and less responsive as time went on. She was offered food but threw it against the mirror causing the mess the glass. Table was kicked about a leg broken, the chair was just bits of wood by now scattered in the room.<p>

Lestrade hadn't been given a chance to see the infamous criminal he had been chasing as he was mostly out on another case or in his office with paperwork. Dimmock hadn't heard from Sherlock, wondering if he was done with this case or out to prove him wrong. He soon found out when a call of a murder happened at the National Antiques Museum, Sherlock and John were soon at Scotland Yard to explain it to him.

Although, said D.I. was attempting to ignore them, which he thought was working well. John and Sherlock were currently confronting him on this. "How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John questioned.

After checking for a fax, Dimmock walked passed between the two without a glance to a desk. John perseus without a second thought. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

"Until we get any word out on the suspect, I won't be finding anyone." He tells still not looking to them.

Sherlock cuts in front of John who just shakes his head stepping away, he was still guilt ridden of her death. "Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers-" He leaned in thickening his voice. "A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London _right_ under your nose. Helena has no connection to them."

Dimmock turns looked up, "Can you prove that?" Sherlock straightened accepting that challenge.

The homeless lonely girl sat in the corner; hood over her head arms wrapped around her with knees huddles under her. The small figure shook with her head bobbing slowly almost looking to be falling asleep or breathing deeply.

The door clicked, and creaked open. She didn't look up, not worth seeing the smug look on Dimmock's face. If anymore food was offer she'll fling the food right at him. Not expecting a different voice, Helena heard the mutter of, "God, Helena..."

Her head slowly rose up seeing scuffed shoes and jeans walk to her in a stiff motion. The male knelt down as he lifted the hood a bit to see if she was alright. Helena then knew the man see concerned eyes meet her's.

"Dr. Watson." She whispered, more like whimper to him.

"Yeah, its John." He gave with a friendly smile, her eyes darted to the door. "Don't worry, its just you and me. No one else." He assured reaching over gently to rub her arm.

"What are you doing here?" Helena asks still eyeing the door expecting him to charge in at any moment.

"Well, shortly we have proof of your innocence." Her eyes lit up at that. She was to be free once again? John put another hand on her other arm looking at her. "Now Helena, Sherlock will-"

Her face suddenly turned into a deep scowl. "Keep that bastard _away_ from me!" She cried backing into the corner as much as she could.

"Helena, please. He needs to prove this to Dimmock." John tried to reason gently holding her arms in place. "Sherlock never meant this, he just got too focused I guess.." He sighed and let her arms go letting his arm rest on his knee. "After you were arrested, Sherlock was more determined than anything to prove you didn't do it. He really did want you involved with the case, because- to me, I think he found an interest in you."

Her brows knotted, "..Interest?" Helena didn't understand by that.

"You think like him, your mind works like his. It must be rare for him to meet someone with that same thought process. He always goes on how the world is full of idiots and we all have boring empty minds. You're not one of them." John explained licking his lips before continuing. "I've never seen him so high strung on a case until you were involved. I told him he should've warned you for your safety, but he said you could handle yourself."

Helena lifted her head, raising a hand to move her head a bit higher of her head. "..He said that?"

"Yea, he said once that finding evidence was depending 'her'. I knew that 'her' was you." John gave a crooked smile. "He's not… all that bad." He strained earning a small huff of soft laughter from Helena.

John reached out feeling her arm, she still shook like a leaf. The door suddenly opened in a rush making the two jump as Sherlock and Dimmock entered. They paused as John got to hs feet moving for them to go to her.

Sherlock finally spotted her in the corner when John moved. She raised her hand to remove her hood, her eyes were puffy red and stains were down her face; tear stains. She was crying, and looked to be for a long time. Dehydrated and hungry, but by the sight of the mess at the glass she refused any nourishment. He swallowed approaching her and crouching down to her slowly. Helena retracted a bit and looked down to avoid his gaze.

"Helena, we need to just-"

"Do you remember what I said to you?" She whispered coldly.

Sherlock nods, "Yes, but-"

"The only reason I am letting you this remotely close to me, is because John told me you have proof to get me out of this hell hole." She stated with a crack in her voice.

The acclaimed sociopath sighed before putting a hand on her shoulder hesitantly. Helena flinches at the touch and looked up meeting his gaze, she saw something in those electric striking eyes of his. But he could be faking it, like how she's seen his acting before. She looked away refusing to accept that of him as he gently gripped. "I'm.. sorry." He said softly, earning her eyes to find his. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. I never intended this to happen, I want you to understand this. I know you know this, your mind isn't as dimwitted as _someone's _here." Sherlock gave glancing to Dimmock earning a scoff from Helena. He turned back with raised brows.

"..A-alright.. What do I do?" She gave feeling her shoulders become less tense with his hand still there.

Sherlock half grinned, "Just need to see your feet."

Helena frowned, "Excuse me..?" Her brow raised as Sherlock stood letting her shoulder go as Dimmock approached. "My feet?" Her eyes met John who nodded assuringly.

Sighing, her shaking hands reached for her boots removing them. Sherlock bent down again as Dimmock watched him extend her legs out to show the soles of her feet. "Notice there is no tattoo on her?" He points out as Helena tried to ignore the heat in her face as Sherlock was carefully touching her legs.

Dimmock cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish. More like stupid, Helena would think. "Okay, this is proof enough."

"That and she was locked up here like a caged animal when Soo Lin was killed." Sherlock spat giving him a glare.

The Inspector sighed, admitting defeat. "..What do you want?" he asks as Helena slips her boots back on.

"Well first for her to be set free before she suffers another panic attack and every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."

"Their books?" He questioned. Sherlocked nodded but Dimmock bit his lip. "She's still a criminal to all those past agendas."

"Then I'll pay for her bail, crimes, any of the sort. I don't care." Sherlock bit back.

Heavy breathing echoed, eyes shot to Helena who clutched her chest indeed having another attack from her fear. John instantly went over putting a hand on her shoulder. "Helena? Helena- breath!"

Sherlocked acted quick moving closer to pick her up into his arms as she shook whimpering. "Move!" He barked at Dimmock who jumped from the man who carried the hyperventilating out of the room.

John followed after, not expecting that nor seen Sherlock move so fast. Hell, he's never even seen him carry anyone before. He rushed after the two exiting the building. Sherlock goes to a near by bench by the crossways and sets her down gently.

"Helena, open your eyes, look. We're outside now," He fiddled with the cuffs taking a key he swiped from Dimmock's desk before taking the damned metal locks off her. Sherlock tosses them aside as Helena takes a deep breath hearing the sounds of cars and people chatting. Her eyes open looking around seeing the lights of London and cars going by, she sighed as she felt herself calm down.

"You alright?" John asked coming to her other side as Sherlock stood, hands in his pockets.

Helena nodded breathing softer, "..Thank you so much." She mumbled looking between them. Moving to stand on her feet, she stumbled into Sherlock who held her upright awkwardly not expecting that. "Sorry.."

"We need to get back to Baker Street. When was the last time you ate?" John asked as Sherlock let her stand on her own, but she held her hand tightly on his coat sleeve in case she lost balance.

Helena shook her head, "..Back in Chinatown."

The doctor sighed at this, "And slept?"

She didn't answer to that one, which confirmed John to bring her back to their flat. John helped her to a cab Sherlock called down and rode back to Baker Street. It was silent as Helena across the men to give her space after being locked in a room for 24 hours. John watched her now and again while Sherlock constantly kept an eye on her. Halfway through, she laid down on the seat and curled up closing her eyes.

"Glad that's over." John muttered with a sigh, he looked to Sherlock who stared at Helena. Thinking back he approached with a subject. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" He hummed.

"..Now we got Helena, Soo Lin is.." He clears his throat. "So-"

"She won't stay long." He stated. John looked to Helena then to Sherlock. "Her trust is still thin to us-"

"To you." John corrected, Sherlock met his gaze. "I told her you never meant for that to happen. I think she understands."

"Understand what?" Sherlock questioned.

"How much you focused on getting her out of there." Sherlock frowned at his words and looked back out the window.

Sherlock hadn't noticed that but denied it. It was for the case, not Helena. She was just helpful in it and didn't want any false claims on the murderer. If this was with Lestrade that whole incident wouldn't have happened or would've gone smoother at best.

* * *

><p>Once they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock went ahead to the flat while John woke Helena up, paid the cab, and helped her up the stairs. She instantly took over the couch, John removed his coat and took his chair. Sherlock took his time removing his effects of the gloves first.<p>

"Not just a criminal organisation; it's a cult." He says moving the door to hang his coat and scarf. "Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."

"Soo Lin said the name." John said looking over.

"Yes, Shan. General Shan." Sherlock glanced to Helena who seemed to have drifted back to sleep.

"We're still no closer to finding them."

"Wrong." Sherlock gives turning to him shoving his hands in his pockets. "We've got almost all we need to know." John doesn't speak, giving Sherlock a narrowed look before explaining. "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need _her _expertise?"

"She worked at the museum." John states.

"Exactly."

John then caught on. "An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see." He leans forward folding his hands.

"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. Chinas home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." Sherlock concluded.

"And the Black Lotus is selling them."

"Online.." The boys turn to Helena on the couch who looked up at them, now awake. "It's too risky to sell them in shops or on the street. If they did it online... they'd look like a normal auction site."

Sherlock tilts his head at her, then rushes to the dining table opening his laptop to so a search. John got up and walked over to Helena who sat up rubbing her eyes. "Feeling better?"

She nodded giving a yawn, he went to the kitchen to get her something as she still hadn't eaten. Helena got up and moved to look over Sherlock's shoulder to see the laptop screen. He was on Crispians' website and started surfing for recent actions. She pointed at the screen, "Click that." She told, he did so as the page loaded to a list of Asian works of art.

"Check for the dates…" Sherlock muttered to himself as he scrolled down, then stopped. On the screen were two Chinese Ming vases. "Here, John." He called, John rushed over to see before he could find anything. "Arrived from China four days ago."

Helena leaned in a bit reading the information. "Two undiscovered treasures from the East… Source is anonymous.."

"Vender doesn't give his name." Sherlock grinned.

"One in Lukis' suitcase and one in Van Coon's." John figures as Sherlock moved the cursor to go to Quest Search.

"Antiquities sold at auction." He says as he types, but has 'Chinese' at the first before clicking enter. The results are listed instantly. "Look, here's another one."

John looks into a book that is no doubt Lukis' diary as Helena reads it out. "Arrived from China a month ago. It's a Chinese ceramic statue sold at- bloody hell. Sold for four hundred thousand."

"Ah, look;" The two look as John points to another on the screen that matches what he read in the book. "A month before that- a Chinese painting, half a million."

Maybe Helena should've gotten this job, she jokes to herself. "All of them from an anonymous source." Sherlock states looking up. "They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain."

Looking back into the book, John then looks at the print out of Van Coon's calendar. "And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon to China."

"If they were doing this, what could've caused things to go to this?" Helena asked leaning on the table.

Sherlock looks to her. "What if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?"

Helena hums at that nodding in agreement. "That's why Zhi Zhu's come." John tells.

She looks to him. "Who?"

"The Spider," John stands straight looking to her. "He's the one responsible for those murders."

"Ahhh, now I see." She nods folding her arms.

"Ooh-ooh!" Came a voice with a knock, the three turned finding Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock."

"What?"

"A young man's outside with crates of books."

Sherlock stands and goes past Mrs. Hudson down the stairs. She smiles walking in seeing Helena. "Hello, dearie." She then frowns. "Ohh, you look so pale. Are you alright?"

John comes in before Helena can deny anything. "Actually, is there something she could eat, Mrs. Hudson? She hasn't had anything for a while."

"Oh! Of course!" She nods and rushed down the stairs.

Helena sighs and sits where Sherlock sat a moment ago. "Didn't have to do that."

"You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. Remind of Sherlock and his habits." John gave putting the book down.

She frowned, "Habits?" Two officers come up carrying a crate of books, this goes on as the two talk.

"He doesn't eat during a case and sometimes doesn't sleep." John explained moving across the room as Sherlock came up after a second crate was brought up.

Soon the last crate was brought in, and the living room had towers of crated books all over. Helena sat by the fireplace with a tray of food and tea Mrs. Hudson brought up, the boys were on the other side of the crate wall discussing how to maneuver through these.

"So, the numbers are references." Sherlock said looking over the crates.

"To books." John nods.

Sherlock turns to him. "To specific pages and specific words on those pages."

"Right, so…" He paused. "fifteen and one; that means.."

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."

"So what's the message?" John asks

Sherlock answers in a snarky tone, "Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book _code_. Has to be one that they both owned." Sherlock steps back and leans down reading the two crates with 'Van Coon' and 'Lukis' labeled on them.

John takes a look around. "Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?" He asks going to the nearest crate and opening it.

Sherlock goes to the one he was looking at opening it, he rounds it almost stepping on Helena in the process not seeing her hiding there. He takes book after book out dropping them right beside her. She moves a side not to get hit by a stray falling book. John took a few books out piling them onto the dining table and taking a seat.

"We found these, at the museum." Helena perks hearing Dimmock, that bastard. She peeks between the gaps of the crates seeing him hold up an evidence bag to Sherlock, then turned to show John. "Is this your writing?"

John leaned over and took the bag seeing what was inside. "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us." Dimmocks nods, "Ta."

He looked to Sherlock too engrossed onto the books he looked over between two open crates. "Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?"

Helena popped up with a plate of her chips giving Dimmock a welcoming false grin. "Ah, kissing arse are we?"

Dimmock didn't expect her here stepping back a bit. "Some silence right now would be marvellous." Sherlock tells not looking up or surprised at Helena's cut in on the conversation.

He looks to John who shakes his head showing he wasn't needed for any assist and turned to the books. He finds Helena's glare once more, biting his lip he turns leaving in an awkward silence down the stairs. Helena moves the plate off the crate and sits back down. "Almost knocked me out with these books, jerk." She tells the long legged man beside her.

"You chose to sit on the floor that isn't meant to eat meals on." He softly retorted dropping another book by her.

Helena took one and looked through it, she silently helped the boys in finding certain words on certain pages. She places books in separate sections in case she found it's twin which was only so far three. Everytime Sherlock found two of the same he slammed them on John's desk messing up his own pile. This continued all through the night, although Helena only made it until 4:27 am before found asleep curled in a ball by Sherlocks' feet. He was careful not to step on her when he moved to other crates.

The next morning rolled by with the sun shining through the curtains of the windows. Crates were moved and books were spread about in even and uneven piles. Sherlock stood in the middle ruffling a hand through his hair and looking about with a sigh. His suit blazer off and sleeves rolled up, hands now on his hips. John's jacket was gone too and looking extremely tired, though not realizing the time until his watch went off. Even the morning bells could be heard ringing outside. Looking outside, John groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, he had a shift that morning.

John showered and dressed in fresh clothing leaving for his job, Sherlock leaned on the dining table still looking through books not willing to stop now. As the door slammed of John leaving, Sherlock looks up, now noticing he was gone. He searched around and found Helena sleeping in a curled ball still where she was the night before, his jacket blazer draped over her as a makeshift blanket.


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I know I said I wouldn't be writing. But work is just stressing me out with ass wipes coming in harassing me and co-workers giving me a hard time with my work I had to do. I won't get into it, but thank you for the patience and here's the conclusion of the Blind Banker. Thanks to new follows and current ones.**

* * *

><p>"Helena." Came a voice, she sighed and just stayed still ignoring it. "Helena, get up!" It came more demanding. She groaned using whatever blanketed over her pulled over her head. "Come on, move!" He demanded taking her warm comfort from her.<p>

"Jesus, you're demanding." She yawned sitting up and rubbing the tired out of her eyes.

Sherlock danced around to get to the bookshelf she was blocking. Helena eventually stood stretching her limbs feeling the joints crack and pop. "Any progress?" She asked running fingers through her hair.

"No, just needed you out of the way." He told quickly scanning the shelf. "A book that everybody would own.." Sherlock whispered to himself, taking three books; Dictionary, Holy Bible, and a third Helena didn't see.

She takes turning to the 15th page, "Nostrils." Frowning she looks at the cover and gives Sherlock a look. "Why would anyone own 'Syphilis and Local Contagious Disorders'?" Helena laughed putting it aside.

Sherlock barely bat an eye at her chucking the other two aside. He sighed propping his elbows on the crate and ran his fingers through his messy hair ruffling it up even more. John soon entered through the kitchen seeing the two standing by the crate, almost the same as he left, though Helena was awake now.

Sherlock sees him and drops his arms. "I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."

"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John smiles.

Helena grinned, "Nice, John!" She praised.

Sherlock through frowned at this, John had a date? "What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained.

"That's what I was suggesting, but three instead."

Helena turns with a questioning low brow look to Sherlock. He glanced at her as John blinked at those words. "No it wasn't… At least I hope not."

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock asked going into his trouser pocket.

"Er, cinema."

Before Helena could ask what movie, Sherlock walks around the crates to John. "Oh, dull, boring predictable." Taking a piece of paper from said pocket, he hides a grin lowering his head before looking back him handing him the paper. "Why don't you try this?"

John took it seeing it was an advertisement for Yellow Dragon Circus with a phone number. "What is it?" Helena asked coming over to see it.

"In London for one night only." Sherlock gives as Helena reads it.

John chuckled and offered the paper back to him. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." Although he looked at it again, as Sherlock didn't take it. The doctor walked back to the kitchen.

Helena looked around, then to Sherlock who sat at the dining table with a sight. "I didn't you were a Mr. Dating Expert."

Sherlock didn't answer, but looked up to her with a different subject in mind. "I still owe you."

"Hm? Owe me?" She questioned leaning against the table with folded arms.

"For getting you mistaken and arrested." He informed folding his hands under his chin.

Helena looked around and back to him. "I thought helping me out of there was owing me? Not to mention you sort of paid for my past crimes."

Sherlock shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Let me take you out tonight."

Shocked by his words, she stood to her feet looking at him a bit is disbelief. "You take me out? On what, a date?" She laughs.

Sherlock shrugged. "Yes." That stopped her laughing.

Her brown eyes dart about as if thinking. A date, she never been on a date , Helena knew what a date was, before John vague definition of it was explained. And Sherlock didn't seem the type for these things, so she was off guard at this. Running a hand through her hair, she nodded. "Uh, alright. Sure. Why not?"

Giving a grin, "Excellent." He stood and wondered down the hall. "Feel free to freshen up." He called before shutting his bedroom door, was he searching for clothing?

Helena sighed and followed down the same hall but turned to the bathroom. She forgot the second door was to Sherlock's room, which was open with a crack. Reaching for the handle, her eyes wandered into the room finding the tall male unbuttoning his shirt back to her. Helena tried not to stare when the shirt dropped seeing his toned bare pale back. Looking so smooth, almost tempted to reach out and feel just to see for herself. Sherlock turned and she shut the door before he could catch her peeking at him. Cheeks hot and red, she locked the door and the other bathroom door setting the water up for a shower.

* * *

><p>Evening night soon came, as John and Sarah walk up the slope to a building on their date.<p>

"It's been years since anyone took me to a circus." Says Sarah with an excited smile.

"Right, yes!" John chuckled nervously. "Well, it's… a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up."

"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?" She asks.

"I don't know much about it."

The two pause looking at the large red Chinese lanterns strung outside the hall. "I think they're probably from China!" Sarah jokes laughing.

"Yes, I think-I think so, yes." He laughs with here. "There's a coincidence." He tells himself quietly. They both walk up into the building, up the steps to the office to get tickets. "Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserves for tonight."

"And what's the name?" The manager asks.

John takes his wallet from his jacket, "Er, Holmes."

He rifles through the collection of reservations, and turns to him. "Actually I have four in that name." He shows John the envelope.

John frowns a bit confused. "No, I don't think so. We only booked two."

"And then I phone back and got one for myself and one for Helena." They turned finding Sherlock walk up to them with Helena tagging behind him. John looks up in disbelief at this stunt he pulled looking to her. She shrugged, looking to be dragged here as well and almost disappointed but tried to hide it. Sherlock holds his hand out to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock."

"Helen." She gives giving John an apologetic look.

Sarah glances to John and then to Sherlock shaking his hand smiling at the two. "Er, hi."

"Hello." He gives with a short smile and darts away with Helena following with a grumble.

At the steps leading up to the main room, Sherlock paused tugging Helena back. "Go ahead and map out how many routes of escape there are." She nods and goes on ahead as he waits for John to catch up. Soon John arrives with an annoyed look in his eyes.

"You couldn't let me just have one night off? Not even let Helena have a night of rest?" John harshly questioned in a hushed tone as people passed by.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits." He told ignoring his questions. "The Tong send an assassin to England-"

"Dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave! Even Helena didn't look like she wanted to be here. How did you even convince her to come?"

"I told her I owed her, so offered her a date." Sherlock explains quickly.

John sighed leaning his head back, that's why she looked that way. "God, Sherlock.."

"She needs to see how her does it and confirm it's him." Sherlock explains shortly. "We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity?" He pauses in his convincing to John. "Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all Helena needs to do is map the building, while I have a quick look round the place-"

"Fine." John cut. "You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."

"I need your help." Sherlock told sternly.

"You have Helena to help you, she's just as smart to keep up with you. Besides, I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"

"Like what?"

John blinks at him astonished. "You are kidding."

"What's so important?" Sherlock questioned back in the hushed town again.

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to.." He trailed off, hoping Sherlock would catch on.

Shaking his head, "What?" he urges.

"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" He barks just as Sarah rounds the corner, he turns with an awkward smile. "Hey… Ready?" Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns going ahead up the stairs to find Helena.

"Yeah!" Sarah gives excited once more as they follow the tall man.

The three joined Helena who stood with a smaller scattered crowd, her eyes darted about mapping things out in her mind. The room is dimly light as the performance is centered in the room than on the stage itself. There wasn't as many people as John had expected, showing not many tickets were favored to be made or interests in other people. Then again it wasn't advertised on the telly or paper.

John turned to Sherlock over his shoulder who glanced around back to him. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd." He turned to John. "Sherlock, this is…" He gave a distasteful look. "..art."

"This is not their day job." Sherlock quietly tells over his shoulder.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers." John snaps back.

Sarah glanced to Helena who still was silent. She patting her shoulder gently, "You alright?"

Helena flinched and looked over, stepping back shrugging Sarah's hand off. "Yeah, yeah." She gives and looked to Sherlock who turned to her. "Exit one and two are on our left and right, taking the front entrance as an exit would be too risky. I determined there's a back exit behind the stage leading either straight outside or a hall then outside."

Sherlock nods, "Good. Now just the timing in investigate."

Drumming could be heard, everyone's attention turned to the circled center. John looked to Sherlock who quirks an eyebrow at him. Sarah smiles, but Helena silently sighs boredly as she shoves her hands in her jacket pocket. A woman in a Chinese headdress and silk robes appeared with traditional Chinese make up.. She looks over the small audience before raising a hand, the drummer stops at that time. A large object on the left of her is hidden under a cloth, she removes it revealing a large old looking crossbow. Chinese strings echo out for a dramatic effect to the performance, Helena tilts her head wondering how this was art. The decorated woman took a large thick arrow showing the crowd before placing it onto the weapon and pulling it back. The drumming got intense at this point, making Sarah tense with eagerness next to John. She took a feather from the top of her decorated headdress and let it flutter down into the metal bowl. Within a blink of an eye, the arrow whizzed across the room right into the wall with a large echoing WAMP!

Some people gasped at it, including Sarah and John who jumped. Helena blinked, never seeing something such as this before, it was pretty amazing! Sherlock wasn't stunted as he just watched examining how it worked. Sarah placed a hand over her heart not expecting it to go that fast laughing softly to John.

Helena inwardly was glad this wasn't a real date as she would've wandered off to nick off these people or wander the building. She resisted the urge as Sherlock stood behind her watching onward as the others did.

The audience claps as a new figure appears with a head mask of a Chinese demon like design. His body is covered in chainmail as he holds his arms to the side ready for his act. Two men dressed in black start to cover and wrap him in chains folding his arms across himself as the string music returns. They bring him to the board chaining him there, Helena frowned at this taking a deep breath. The sounds of the chains and padlocks clicking made her step back a tad.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock whispers to the three who turn to him. "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior had to escape his bonds before it fires."

Helena swallows thickly at that and turns back as the yanking of the chains causes the warrior to cry out. Drumming grows more intense as people look on, sudden cymbals crashing causes this time, both girls to jump. Sarah jumps at John covering her mouth in embarrassment, looping an arm around John's. He takes notice of this and grins to himself, thinking this date might not be too bad. Helena jumped back bumping into Sherlock, she whispers a 'sorry' as he nods to her seeing her grow tense at this scene.

The decorated woman takes out a knife as an arrow is already set, she shows the knife to the audience. Sherlock whispers in explanation again, "She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl."

Helena wanted to shush Sherlock, she felt as tense as Sarah at this. She didn't have a worry about the arrow snapping into the man's neck at all. The sounds of chains and seeing him locked up gave her thoughts on her fear. She took another step back nearly moving to get behind Sherlock who didn't seem to notice or bother. Once the bag started lowering and the man struggled, a hand was on Helena's shoulder causing her to flinch and looked over. It was only Sherlock, he nodded his head to follow her to investigate. She gladly followed.

As the performance continued, Sherlock and Helena search backstage to find anything this 'circus' carried. As clapping echoed for the next performance, Sherlock eyed something. Helena heard the announcement of the next act as he searched.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider."

Helena rushed to the curtains seeing a man soaring around on two red long materials. She shakes her head, and looked back. "Sherlock!" She calls in a hushed down.

He follows over peeking through above her seeing the performance with interest. "Well, well."

"Son of a bitch, that's him." Helena spat quietly watching the man. "...Not impressed." She frowns.

Doors slam, Sherlock and Helena take cover behind a rack and clothing holding their breath. The headdressed woman is the one who entered, rushing to the dressing table. Sherlock tries to pea only causing a rack to fall, Helena ducks his head down and the two hold their breath once more. She eyes the rack but walks right by and leaves the stage.

Spotting something Sherlock reaches over opening a bag filled with spray cans. He takes one labeled 'Michigan'. The bottom of the can is a yellow band showing the color of it. "Found you." He lowly sings to himself catching Helena's attention. Sherlock stands moving past the rack shaking the can, and sprays a fine line over the mirror to replicate the one at the bank.

"Just like those others." Helena mutters walking over to his side, but catches something in the reflection. Wasn't that armor standing somewhere else?

When it moves, it reveals a man is inside the armor. Sherlock and Helena stand back as he swings a weapon at the two. Helena, remember this almost like the attack at the flat days ago, gets behind the man. She swings her right leg up to give a round house kick to his head, only he turns blocking it. He shoves her away and now swings the weapon at her as she jumps back as much as she could until the curtain touched her back. Sherlock, still with the can turns the man and sprays the can in his face to blind him and shove him to the ground.

Helena goes beside up, arms up as the man jumps back to his feet. Persistent this one was, she noted. He jumps giving a kick to Sherlock, Helena shoved him back causing him to fall through the curtain and off the stage as she blocking the kick with her own leg.

Wind knocked out of him, Sherlock tries to get up, Helena steps back and falls as well though on her side groaning at the impact. The crowd gasps as the warrior jumps out, John sees his friends and instantly runs over as the two are a bit winded from the fall. With a raised knife at Helena, John tackled the man against the wall of the stage giving her time to get to her feet. It was enough, though he kicked John in the stomach who stumbled back at the force.

The performer Zhi Zhu,or Soo Lin's brother Liang, removes his mask seeing this runs off instantly. All the people ran off not wanting to get hurt or killed as the man approached to stab Sherlock as Helena was at his side to get him up. Sarah, of all people, ran at the man with one of the giant arrows and slammed it down the warriors unprotected head. He cried out in pain as Sherlock sits up, she continued to beat him until he falls to the floor. She sighs at this, not seemed shaken at all to the three's surprise. Sherlock quickly removes the man's show revealing the same tattoo and the other three victims.

Sarah gets John to his feet as Sherlock got Helena, "Come on!" Sherlock calls as they had to get out of there before others of the gang showed up. "Let's go." John lagged a bit still trying to get a breath after the kick in the gut, Sherlock was almost out of breath from the falling impact he received.

* * *

><p>The four found themselves at Scotland Yard, much to Helena's disdain for it. Once they got out of the hall, Sarah called police while they took the leave. Though when they arrived to Dimmock's office, he in a near outright fury.<p>

"I sent a couple of cars." He told storming into the office. "The old hall is totally deserted."

Helena wanted to kick him in the face, oh so much

Helena wanted to kick him in the face, so so badly. "You think we got these bruises from fighting each other? Sarah here is a witness to the attack!"

"Look," Sherlock cut in as they followed him. "I saw the mark at the circus- that tattoo we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong."

Dimmock turns to them once they reach his desk. He eyed them as they tried to reason him, hands on hips. "Lukis and Can Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation, Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back."

"Get what back?"

Sherlock bit his lip and looked away angrily at that question. Helena sighed and folds her arms, knowing this was their stump. "We don't know." John answers for them.

"You don't know." Dimmock looked to Sherlock who refused to make eye contact. "Mr. Holmes," He sighs taking a seat at his chair. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock rose his head at that biting back a grin. "I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it- other than a massive bill for overtime."

* * *

><p>The four man group return to Baker Street, Sherlock takes his coat and scarf them over one of many still opened crates. Sarah staggers behind a bit taking in the flat, Helena sighs running a hand down her face as she flops into John's chair; much comfier than Sherlock's.<p>

They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John states taking his jacket off.

"No," Sherlock denies. "they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous." He goes around the crates to the mantel. "Somewhere in this message it must tell us." Sherlock ran his fingers over the pictured of the brick wall, mind scrambling and steaming not knowing the answer.

Sarah looked between them feeling a bit out of place. "Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it."

"No, no, you don't have to go," He looks over, "Does she?" and looks back. "You can stay." John answered while Sherlock answered, "Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." At the same time.

The two look at each other, Helena looks between the two. John gives a dark look and Sherlock just looks pointedly at her. "He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John insisted.

An awkward silence follows in as Sherlock turns back to the photos and Sarah looks at them nervously. Helena chewed her lip standing up to pass by Sherlock. Sarah spoke first, "Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"

This caused Sherlock to sigh closing his eyes with a small, "Ooh, God." John and Sarah look at him hearing his sigh. Helena shakes her head and smiles to Sarah.

"Ignore him, he was the same when he first met me; worse even." She tells as John scrambled to the kitchen to find something appealing to her. They still had that food he got a few days ago, right?

Sherlock by now was at the dining table papers and more copies of the photos piles around as he searched for a way to translate the message. Helena was tempted to read her book, but Sherlock seemed annoyed enough so she got onto Sherlock's laptop and started Googling for any answers. Sarah behind the detective looking over at the papers taped to the wall.

"So this is what you do, you, John, and Helena. You solve puzzles for a living." She indicated.

Sherlock paused, "Consulting detective." He corrected and continued looking through.

"Oh." Sarah wandered over to looking over Sherlock's shoulder not really noticing the annoyance radiating off him by now. "What are these squiggles?" She asks pointing at the paper.

Sherlock looks up, resisting strongly not to bark at her for John's sake… mostly. "Their numbers." He answers, looking back down handing the photo to Helena as she searches. He noticed a grin on her face, he rolls his eyes at her. "An ancient Chinese dialect."

Sarah quickly nods, "Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that."

While Mrs. Hudson now in the kitchen helping John mae the kitchen more 'presentable' to eat in, Helena was showing Sherlock something on the laptop. While looking away, Sarah picks up an evidence bag of the photo Soo Lin was translating. Sherlock shakes his head at the screen and turns finding Sarah with the item. He gives a short glare and turns to Helena with clenched teeth, almost telling her, 'i'm gonna snap'. Helena shakes her head looking to Sarah as she turns the laptop back around to start a new search.

"So these numbers- it's a cipher." Sarah says looking at the photo.

"Exactly." Sherlock answers tightly.

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

The two instantly look over in shock by her words. What did she say? "How did you know that?" Sherlock questions.

"Well," She puts the picture down showing the two pointing at the two words. "two words have been already translated, here."

"John." Sherlock called, "John, look at this." Sherlock stands taking the bag from Sarah. John emerges from the kitchen as Helena stands to see better as Sherlock rips it open to take the photo out. Sarah was right; 'NINE' and 'MILL' written over in black pen. Helena could kick herself, that's why Dimmock asked about handwriting when showing them the back.

John squinted at the photo. "Does that mean 'millions'?"

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock questioned, then turned to Helena who jumped to her feet. He in turn went for his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John asks the two as Sherlock hands Helena the photo to put his coat on. "To the museum; to the restoration room. Do you know a way inside?" He asks Helena as it would be closed by now.

"I know two safe routes." She nods proudly.

Sherlock grimaces at this late realization. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At-at what?" John stuttered.

"The book, John. The book- the key to cracking the cipher." He shows the photo taking it from Helena for a moment before shoving it back into her arms taking his scarf. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must have been on her desk."

"You said she was murdered?" Helena asked, John nodded as sherlock looped his scarf and slid his gloves on. "Anything she owned in that building would be locked up somewhere there." She turns to Sherlock and the two rush out.

The two burst out of the door, Sherlock running past the tourist couple, "Taxi!" The male tourist gets his book knocked out. "Hey, du! Siehst du nicht wo du hingehst?" Helena mentally translates that to herself turning back to the couple. 'Hey, you! Why don't you look where you're going?'

Sherlock turns back picking it up and handing it back to the man. "Entschuldigen Sie, bitte." He apologies as the man takes the book back. The couple grumble in German as they continue their way down the street. Sherlock groans at missing the taxi.

"Slow down," Helena tells him with folded arms. "they won't be leaving just as you said. Besides, who else could they target?" She shrugs.

Sherlock just grunts in anger as no cabbie will stop for him. He walked down the street a bit in anger with Helena watching him, none stopping for her either. Sherlock grits his teeth and looks around, noticing a good number of tourists in the area. His mind flashes back to see that London A to Z book before many a times; Van Coon's flat, Lukis' flat, and even Molly had one carrying around with her.

Sherlock bolted into a run, Helena sees him go running in the direction of the German couple. "Please, wait!" He called. "Bitte!"

They do stop seeing Sherlock running toward them frowning in confusion. They mutter some wanderment on what he wants, but the answer is given when he snatches the book from the man. "Hey, du! Was macht du!?"

"Minute!" He barks at the two turning back to flip through the pages. Helena jogs over to him as the couple soon give up walking away, probably never planning to visit London again.

Helena hold up the photo as Sherlock flips around the book, "Page 15, entry 1.." He repeats and gets to the page. First entry is, "Deadmans Lane NW9." He reads out, looking to Helena. "Dead man. They threatening him."

"And he translated right away, trying to hide from them." Helena nodded and gave the next one on the photo. "..Thirty-seven and nine."

Sherlock turns to the page, "Fore St Ec2- FOR." He hands her a pent and she write there FOR as they started to slowly get the answer.

"Sixty, and thirty-five."

After a short bit, Sherlock gives "Jade." to her.

The two worked hard together getting the translation complete. Once they got the final word, Helena held it out and read it, "Nine Mill for jad pin dragon den black tramway."

Sherlock bites back a grin, "We got them." He turns down back up the street, Helena following after as the two barrel back into 221b and up the stairs. "John! John! We've got it!" He calls going through the kitchen, but no one was there.

Helena ran into the living room for any sign of John or Sarah, but there was none. "John! We got it translated! The London A to Z is…" She trails off as she looked to the window, eyes wide. "Sherlock…" She whispers, he comes in and sees exactly what she sees in equal horror. On the windows were spray painted, the first translation again, "Dead...Man.."

"Oh shit…" Helena ran a hand through her hair as Sherlock rushed to the bookshelf. His searched about trying to find what he was looking for, feeling his brain slow from the danger his friend was in. "Oh, Christ.." He gives under his breath.

Helena watched him, never seen Sherlock this way before. He soon found the folded paper and brought it over to the table unfolding it revealing it to be a map, he slammed his hand down it. "What's the location and fastest route possible?" Sherlock stared at her asking this.

Her mind kicks in looking over the map for about two seconds or three at most, give or take some trouble with the little words he had. Soon her fingers pointed at a location. "There, if you want to go my route, you'll have to keep up." She looked up with a warning look.

He nods with a straight serious face, Helena runs out with Sherlock following behind her. Taking on the streets, she ran across voiding cars with Sherlock close behind. Helena took a sharp turn into an alley climbing up the fire escape on the side as Sherlock ran up the stairs skipping steps to keep up. Both made it to the roof and she looked over, turning, and running over the roofs with Sherlock keeping close to her. 

* * *

><p>"You've seen the act before." Shan grins, the large crossbow now pointed at Sarah who sat directly in front of it, tied and gagged. She sobbed praying for someone to stop this. "How dull for you. You know how it ends." She coons to Sarah.<p>

"I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John yelled out frantically.

"I don't believe you."

"You should, you know." Came that damned voice, Shan turns finding Sherlock's silhouette at the end of the tunnel. She cocks the gun and points it right at him. "Sherlock Holmes isn't nothing at all like him." He jumps to the side blending with the shadows as one of Shan's thugs hurries towards the end. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic."

"Late?" John muttered in an answer still panting.

"I'd say opposite of those words, including egotistical." Helena mutters in the dark beside Sherlock ready for the thug who was approaching.

"That's a semi-automatic." Sherlock addresses. "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second."

Shan still had her pistol pointed. "Well?"

"Well.." Helena jumped out giving the man a kicked to the jaw, two punches and a kick to the ribs hearing a few cracks, and then a kick to the gut sending him to the ground. She quickly ducked in the shadows, as Sherlock continued. "... the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."

The sound of running softly echoed, Sherlock knocked a barrel over giving him more darkness and for Helena to get closer. Shan was tense as she moved the gun pointing it anywhere she heard a noise form. Sherlock appears behind Sarah working on her bonds as Helena was at John's to undo his. She suddenly heard someone cry out, looking up she saw Sherlock being strangled by the man before back in Soo Lin's flat. She gets up to his aid as John tries to get out of what Helena's loosened already.

The red material is wrapped tightly around Sherlock's neck as Liang pulls tightly to cut off all air supply. Helena charges in to help him. John sees the weight getting closer to the bowl, he tries to get close to the cross bow in attempt to have it aim elsewhere than at Sarah, Helena, or Sherlock.

By this moment, Helena pu Liang in a headlock, to only flip her off of him letting Sherlock free momentarily to try Sarah's bonds again. Helena rolls out of the way as he throws a punch her way quickly getting to her feet. Though the next thing she knows, the material is now around her neck, and being pulled tightly against her.

Things got intense as Sherlock was struggling with Sarah's bond, John was half crawling half dragging the chair and himself to the crossbow, and Helena was battling not to lose consciousness. Spots speckled her sight as she felt not air getting to her lungs, falling to her knees yanking at the material. Her head felt dizzy mouth open begging to breath with strangled breathes. Just as the weight got to the bowl, John kicked the crossbow in time for the arrow to shoot off impaling Liang letting Helena go only to fall to the ground with two thuds of Liang's body and Helena's limp one.

John finally escapes his bonds Helena got loose and he starts to untie his legs free. Sherlock stands, hearing Shan running down the end of the tunnel getting away.

Sherlock kneels down to Sarah who's shaking and sobbing escaping death. "It's all right." He whispers to her to sooth her. He removes the gag as she released a sob.

"Sherlock," He groans getting up and rushing to Helena as Sarah gets free. The two follow him with their eyes, shocked to see Helena's limp form on the ground as John checks her. "..She's not breathing."

Without a thought, Sherlock rushes over and gets the red material off from her neck and puts his ear to her mouth, she wasn't breathing is right.

"Mouth to mouth." Sherlock looks up to John. "Give her mouth to mouth, she needs air in her lungs!" He yells.

Sherlock nods, of course, he knew that. His mind gearing again to perform this, closing her nose he lowered his mouth onto her locking lips and breathed into her. He lifted taking a deep breath and pressed more air into her. By the third time, her eyes shot open and coughed hard, gasping for air. Sherlock sat her up hand on her back as she reached for her neck looking for the material.

"It's alright, you're okay." He told just as softly as he did with Sarah as she nodded coughing now and again. Sherlock helped her to her feet as she clutched onto his coat for support. Helena saw the lying corpse of Liang, not seeing Shan in sight she hoped this would be the end of the case.

"You owe me big time..." She chuckled tiredly into his coat, Sherlock sighed looking back to the tunnel exit.

The police soon arrived after a call, and Dimmock finally got the evidence to the whole case. General Shan might have escaped, but it might seem worthy that one of the henchmen Helena knocked out could spill some things as Liang was dead. John walked with Sarah a shock blanket over her, and to Helena's annoyance one on her as well. Sarah is understandable not used to this life, Helena lived on the streets avoiding death was her life. She was just suffering a massive headache from her attack as she walked with Sherlock. Dimmock came over, Sherlock paused to give him a few words as Helena paused a few steps after listening.

"We'll just slip off." He told. "No need to mention us in your report."

The man sighs, "Mr. Holmes.."

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector" Dimmock glanced up. "A glittering career."

Sherlock stepped to leave, "I go where you point me." He said to the detective causing Sherlock to pause for a brief second before continuing his leave with Helena. Not before throwing over his shoulder, "Exactly."

* * *

><p>The next morning, the boys talked in the kitchen, Helena was offered a night to sleep but was gone by the time they had called a cab to get back to Baker Street. Sarah was dropped to her flat and John doubted he'd have another date with her. He sat at the table while Sherlock stood by pouring them tea, he gave thanks taking the mug.<p>

"So," John was looking at the translated message Sherlock and Helena got through to. " 'Nine mill'..."

"Million." Sherlock gave pouring himself a mug.

"Million, yes; 'Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway."

"And instruction to all their London operatives." John hmms in understanding. "A message; what they were trying to reclaim."

John looked up to him. "What, a jade pin?"

Sherlock nodded pointing to the photo. "Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."

"Hand on: a hairpin worth nine million pounds?" He questions finding that a bit over the top.

"Apparently." He gives putting a hand in his pocket raising his mug.

"..Why so much?"

Sherlock paused. "Depends who owned it." He told and sipped his tea.

Outside the flat, Helena sat on the roof across from 221b. She laid on her back by the edge watching the clouds move and form about in the sky. She raised her hand out as if reaching for them, how much she wished she could soar through them seeing the city from the view of the birds that fly by. Taking in a deep breath, Helena found her thoughts as distant as the clouds. She hadn't stolen or pick-pocket since Sherlock had paid her bail and since she helped with the case her crimes were diminished. Though she hasn't climbed higher places, she still does roof jumping and climbing up in public. A sigh escaped as she dropped her arm on her stomach and turned to head to the flat. The door was open and Sherlock was outside coat and scarf adorned as John staggered out shrugging his own jacket on. Helena got to her feet up into a crouching position watching a cab pulled over, the two got in and it drove off. She smirked and watched it drive off, standing straight Helena shoved her hands in her pockets and sauntered off to who knows where.

A day went by and the boys found out where the pin had been; Van Coon's P.A. Amanda had been using it as a common hair pin. Sherlock explained to her how it came to be, and its worth much to her gleeful surprise. John accepted the check Seb offered, which Sherlock asked John to take some out when checking it in.

The boys now sat at the dining table; Sherlock in his dressing gown over a purple dress shirt reading the paper. John opposite in a black and white striped jumper eating a plate of a meal he had made. Sherlock read the front of the paper headlines, "Who wants to be a million-hair". He folds it and puts it aside before taking another newspaper.

"Over a thousand years old and it's sitting on her bedside table every night." John stated seeing the headlines as well.

"He didn't know its value." Sherlock explains. "Didn't know why they were chasing him."

"Hmm. Should've just gotten her a lucky cat." John jokes as Sherlock smiles briefly at it and looking away a bit distant. John notices and folds his fingers at his chin. "You mind, don't you?"

Sherlock looks to him. "What?"

"That she escaped- General Shan. It's not enough that we got her two henchmen."

"It's enough to shut Dimmock up though." Jumped turned and sighed almost having a heart attack as Helena walked out of the kitchen hand in her jacket pocket the other holding a mug of tea.

"Jesus- when did you get here?" He asked, Sherlock didn't bat an eye.

"Just got in." Helena turned to Sherlock. "I got word Sherlock was needing me here. So, what's up?" She asked sipping the tea.

He to the right of the table handing her an envelope. She takes it and walks to the couch putting the mug on the table and looking it over. "It must be a vast network, John." Sherlock tells answering John. "Thousands of operatives. You, Helena, and I, we barely scratched the surface." He opens the paper to get more reading in.

"You cracked the code though, Sherlock." John responded glancing from Helena back to him. "And maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it."

"No." Sherlock looked up shaking his head. "No. I cracked this code. All the smugglers have to do is pick up another book."

"What the hell is this?" John took a bite of his food looking up to Helena who got up to Sherlock glaring him. In her hand was a wad of money, more or less the 5,000 pounds Sherlock asked John to take out. "What is this.. shit?!" She exclaims slamming it down on the table.

"You said I owed you." He told looking at the paper snapping it open and lifting it to hide his face.

She slams it down to look at him. "Owe; yes. This is charity!" Sherlock looked up at her as she glared folding her arms. "I don't take money."

"Oh, but we know you won't put it towards you. Split it between who you know needs it." Sherlock retorted.

John looked between the two, slowly chewing his food hoping Helena hit him. She took a deep breath through her nose closing her eyes, Helena took the money and slid it into her back pocket. "Is that all?" She hisses.

"Not quite." Sherlock puts the paper down and goes into the drawer to his right pulling out a mobile phone handing it to her. She raises a brow at her, arms still crossed. "I want you to join my Homeless Network. You can be my eyes in the skye, Hawkeye." He throws her a wink.

Helena bites back, but lets a weary grin out taking the phone looking it over. "I heard from a few about it, what's the catch?"

"No catch. Well," Helena give a look. "Whenever I need your assistance in anything from sights to maps, I contact you. For your help I send payment to an account you can access anytime."

Helena looked to John, who rose his hands in defense. "I didn't even know he was planning this."

Thinking hard on it, her brown eyes gazed at the phone she kept fiddling with in her hands. Maybe, this is a new change to her life. Leading her usual homeless life into another one. Her eyes went between the two men, she had only known for about a week or more. One who she robbed and the other who saved her life. Giving a scuff, she tucked the down down her jacket into her bra and held a hand out to Sherlock. "It'll be a pleasure working in this with you, Mr. Holmes," She offered another to John. "and Dr. Watson."

John smiled taking her hand as Sherlock took her other one giving hand shakes to her. Indeed this was something new to all three of them.

"By the way, how did you get in." John asks as Helena took the couch with a sigh making herself at home. "I didn't hear the door downstairs.

"Oh, I climbed through Sherlock's window." She answered lifting the mug which she found on said sill of the window.


	7. Author's Note -temp-

Hello everyone. I know, it's been MONTHS since this story has been updating. And don't worry, this isn't a note to disclose the story I've actually been working on the next chapter within those months. It's been hard since I had long dreary hours at work, and was left off just about New Year's week. I've been writing, but currently got a bad case of congestion and throat cold + having a period it makes it feel like the flu. Just minus the fever. So currently in bed just had some meds and got some cough drops on me~

The next few chapters will be slow cause I am looking for a way to keep my money up for the con in June as they offered me to come back in March but that's not for another month or two. Until then I cant really waste my money. AKA: $300

So, this will be deleted once the chapter is complete which I will try during my illness, so I am not dead and the story isnt dead. My ideas are just dead.

Thanks for the follows and reviews though guys! It kept me from deleting this story, and I want two other stories made soon so expect two new stories out sometime... maybe not soon. Bye! -blows nose-


End file.
